Anaea Jackson and the Sea of Monsters
by IWantColouredRain
Summary: Lots has happened in the past year. Ana Jackson has spent most of her time wandering around, fighting monsters. She has also found a cute little Cyclops (and possibly adopted him). But now, her heritage calls to her again. Ana's friend Grover is missing, and, even worse, Camp Half-Blood's wards are failing. It's up to Ana and her friends to save Camp and Grover. Again.
1. Ball with (Canni)Balls

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO**

 **Chapter One**

**The Dangers of Beach (Canni)Balls**

My nightmare started like this.

I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.

 _Florida,_ I thought. Though I wasn't sure how I knew that. I'd never been to Florida, nor did I particularly want to go. Too far from New York, meaning too far from safety for my taste.

Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life. I was instantly worried, because I hadn't seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest, a quest that no satyr had ever returned from.

Anyway, in my dream, Grover was running as fast as he could, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he only does when he needs to move fast. He clopped past the little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground.

I could tell that Grover was terrified of something behind him. He must have just come from the beach. Wet sand was caked in his fur. He'd escaped from somewhere. He was trying to get away from … something.

A bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a shadowy figure loomed. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst in a shower of sparks.

Grover stumbled, whimpering in fear. "Have to get away," he muttered urgently to himself. "Have to warn them!"

I couldn't see what was chasing him, but I could hear it muttering and cursing. The ground shook as it got closer. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered. He'd run straight into a dead-end courtyard full of shops. No time to back up. The nearest door had been blown open by the storm.

The sign above the darkened display window read: ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE. Grover dashed inside and dove behind a rack of wedding dresses.

The monster's shadow passed in front of the shop. I could smell the thing—a sickening combination of wet sheep wool and rotten meat and that weird sour body odour only monsters have, utterly indescribable and disgusting.

Grover trembled behind the wedding dresses. The monster's shadow passed on.

Silence except for the rain. Grover took a deep breath. Maybe the thing was gone.

Then lightning flashed. The entire front of the store exploded, and a monstrous voice bellowed: "MIIIIINE!"

I sat bolt upright, shivering in my bed.

There was no storm. No monster.

Morning sunlight filtered through the cabin window.

I thought I saw a shadow flicker across the glass—a humanlike shape. But I blinked and the shadow at the window disappeared.

It must've been my imagination. Despite that, I stood and opened the window to stick my head outside briefly. Once I had assured myself that I was, in fact, imagining the shadow, I pulled the window firmly closed and locked it. Just in case. Then I went to the kitchen to make breakfast for myself and Tyson.

I tried not to think about my nightmare or monsters or the shadow at my window, focusing instead on the rhythmic actions involved in cooking. I liked cooking. There were never any threats of dying when I was preparing my own food. Granted, my paranoia had grown over the past year, so I might, _might_ , admit that I hadn't eaten I hadn't personally prepared since last summer in case someone I (or my father) had pissed off decided to see if poison would work where swords and monsters wouldn't. Possibly, at any rate.

Despite my best intentions, however, Grover's words insisted on echoing in my thoughts. _Have to get away. Have to warn them!_

What had he meant? Who did he have to warn? Did he mean the camp?

I made a three-fingered claw over my heart and pushed outward—an ancient gesture Grover had once taught me for warding off evil.

If it were a year ago, I would've been able to convince myself that the dream couldn't have been real. But that was before learning of my heritage. Before learning about a half-blood's ability to see the past and the present in their sleep. What if I had dreamed about something that was happening to Grover right now? What if one of my best friends was in mortal danger, and I was in a cabin at Montauk, making pancakes?  
I bit my lip and added a bunch of blueberry juice to turn them blue.

And the message I had received last night from Chiron, telling me there were problems at Camp and I should delay my return for a while. It all added up to a lethal picture, and I would put money on Annabeth and Ethan's involvement.

I was broken from my increasingly grim thoughts by Tyson entering the room.

Tyson was the reason I hadn't returned to Camp for the past two and a half months, despite my friends and Chiron's increasing hints. At least, they had been hinting until last night. See, I wasn't exactly sure how to admit to them that I'd been letting a Cyclops sleep in my house.

Honestly, though, if it wasn't for the fact that he only had one big brown eye, right in the centre of his forehead, you'd never know that he was a monster.

He was six-foot-three and built like the Abominable Snowman, but he cried a lot and was scared of just about everything, including his own reflection. His face was kind of misshapen and brutal-looking, with crooked teeth. His voice was deep, but he talked funny, like a much younger kid. I guess maybe Cyclopses had a longer developmental period than humans do, or something. He could just be slow.

He wore tattered jeans, grimy size-twenty sneakers, and a plaid flannel shirt with holes in it. And no matter what I did, he always smelled like a New York City alleyway. Seriously, I could literally dump in a vat of perfume, and he would still smell the same way. It was infuriating!

But anyway, the first time we met, I had wandered out of camp and I was wandering to my cabin when I tripped over him. It took me a bit to realize that the reason I couldn't make myself look past his teeth was because of the Mist. And by then, he was just too sweet and babyish for me to kill. But I doubted Luke, who had a fierce grudge against Cyclopses for a reason he hadn't told me, would accept that excuse.

So, I had stayed at Montauk with Tyson, avoiding Chiron and the other's pointed comments about how long I'd been outside its' safe borders (and neglecting my studies), as well as suffering through an occasional attack. It had surprised me that the number was so low, considering that before finding Tyson it was close to three or four attacks per week whenever I left the wards.

Then I realized that every time I _was_ attacked, Tyson _wasn't_ with me, so it was pretty easy to understand that he was intimidating the rest of the monsters away. Even if I found it hard to believe that anyone or thing could be afraid of such a sweet kid. And believe me, Tyson was definitely a kid in Cyclops' years. Exhibit A, this morning:

"Ana!" He squealed on entering the kitchen and spotting me. He clapped his hands together hard enough to make the wall next to him shake. "Pancakes?" he asked me, eyes wide and a hopeful tone in his voice.

I softened instantly, a smile growing on my face as I temporarily pushed away my crippling fears over what was happening to Grover and at Camp.

"Yes, Baby," I answered affectionately. It was out of character for me to be so, coo-y, for lack of a better word, but little kids tend to bring out that side of me. "And then we're going out to the beach," I added cheerfully, making Tyson clap his hands excitedly again.

The two of us went about eating our breakfast and getting ready. I could almost forget my worry for Grover and my friends at camp, but not quite. Luckily, Tyson didn't notice the strain on my face as we headed out to the beach.

Tyson went to work building what was doubtlessly going to be a legendary sandcastle, while I sat twisting my hairpin-disguised sword in my hands and brooding over what I should do. I wanted to rush straight to Camp Half-Blood and help with whatever was threatening my home as well as find Grover, but I couldn't just abandon Tyson. And bringing a Cyclops to Camp Half-Blood of all places seemed like a disaster in the making. They would scare him, and no doubt the campers would all freak over the whole monster thing.

I noticed a bunch of ridiculously buff guys playing ball near by and frowned at them. My senses tingled in warning, and my grip tightened automatically on my pin. I bit my lip and turned away from them. I didn't need to get in a fight if I could avoid it.

"Scared," Tyson mumbled. "Smell funny."

I looked at him. "What smells funny?"

"Them." Tyson pointed at the boys. "Smell funny."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. I didn't know a lot about Cyclops physiology, but it made sense that they'd be able to smell other monsters. Grover could, after all.

"Stay away from them," I ordered him softly. "Just build your castle."

He nodded, going back to the castle, which was now to about my hip while standing, with wings, windows, a moat and all. It really was a masterpiece.

A few minutes later, though, I could see that they were definitely looking at me. I stood, determined to get the hell out of the open, and called to Tyson.

"Tyson," I said. "Let's g—"

A ball slammed into my side. I collapsed to the ground, knowing from experience the feeling of multiple broken ribs and cursing my stupidity for not leaving earlier. The monsters exploded in laughter.

My eyesight was fuzzy as I struggled to rise. My sword had flown out of my hands and I couldn't see. It felt like I'd just gotten the Heimlich maneuver from a gorilla. I couldn't believe anybody could throw that hard, monster or not.

Tyson yelled, "Ana, duck!" It was sound advice, so I followed the suggestion.

I sent a silent thanks to the gods that at least there didn't seem to be any mortals around because the ball players were growing in size. They were no longer kids. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

I scrambled around in my brain for an identification and, more importantly, a weakness, but I couldn't. I decided to go to Plan B instead. Hack at them with my sword and hope for the best.

The one who seemed like the leader (in that he was the biggest and ugliest of the lot) growled at me. He had a tattoo on his biceps that said: JB luvs Babycakes. I wondered briefly who Babycakes was, and if she (or he, I don't judge) was blind and unable to smell.

"Now, Daughter of the Sea God. We Laistrygonians aren't just playing for your death. We want lunch!"

He waved his hand and a new batch of beach balls appeared, but these balls weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, perforated like wiffle balls with fire bubbling out the holes. They must've been searing hot, but the giants picked them up with their bare hands.

Another fireball came streaking toward me. Tyson pushed me out of the way before I could do something stupid, but the explosion still blew me head over heels.

I found myself sprawled on the ground, dazed from smoke, my pretty spliced tunic peppered with sizzling holes. I cursed, silently swearing vengeance for my lovely top. It was my favourite one, damnit!

Just across from me, two hungry giants were glaring down at me.

"Flesh!" they bellowed. "Hero flesh for lunch!" They both took aim.

"Ana needs help!" Tyson yelled, and he jumped in front of me just as they threw their balls.

"Tyson!" I screamed, but it was too late.

Both balls slammed into him … but no … he'd caught them. Thank the gods for Cyclops fire immunity, a fact my concussed mind had just remembered.

He sent them hurtling back toward their surprised owners, who screamed, "BAAAAAD!" as the bronze spheres exploded against their chests.

The giants disintegrated in twin columns of flame, a sure sign they were monsters, as if I had actually needed one.

"My brothers!" JB the Cannibal wailed. He flexed his muscles and his Babycakes tattoo rippled. "You will pay for their destruction!"

"Tyson!" I cried in warning. "Look out!"

Another comet hurtled toward us. Tyson just had time to swat it aside. It flew into the sea, causing a large, watery, explosion. To my dread, I heard one of my least favourite sounds in the distance. The sound of sirens.

"Victory will be ours!" roared JB the Cannibal. "We will feast on your bones!"

I wanted to tell him that he seriously needed to smoke some weed to relax or something, but before I could, he hefted another ball. The other three giants followed his lead.

I knew we were dead. My ribs were too damaged for me to be able to fight properly and Tyson couldn't deflect all those balls at once.

The sound of waves crashing against the shore gave me a crazy idea. So, basically the same as all of my ideas really. (Hey, gimme a break, why don't'cha? At least I can _acknowledge_ my insanity.)

I closed my eyes, buried my face in the sand and concentrated on the place in my stomach that always tugged when I used my powers. Then I reached out to the ocean mentally, and _**pulled**_.

There was a loud roar as I dragged as much water as I could out of the sea and flung it forcefully at the cannibals. The monsters' screams turned to an awful gurgling sound before disappearing. When I looked up, they were gone and Tyson was soaked, a bewildered look on his face.

"Really Ariel?" A familiar voice called from the rocks above. "Do you have to be so ostentatious, Babe?"

I sighed, and flopped over onto my back to give him my worst glare. To his credit, he knew better than to keep smiling when I wore that particular look, forcing a fake-serious expression on to cover his smug grin.

"Hey, Luke," I greeted him grumpily.


	2. I Plot Murder

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA**

 **Chapter Two**

**I Plot My Best Friend's (Painful) Death**

Now, under different circumstances, I would've been really happy to see him. Despite the many ways that he drove me to the edge of insanity and beyond, he had become my best friend last summer on the quest to find Zeus' bolt. And the bond we had formed had deepened over the past few months of hanging out at camp or IMing each other.

But I _loathed_ being embarrassed, and the way I'd struggled in the fight against the cannibals had been humiliating. So, now I was pissed. Luke wasn't doing himself any favours by giving Tyson such cold looks.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I snapped as I jack-knifed to my feet. My injured ribs shrieked in protest, a groan of pain escaping before I could stop it.

"Comin' to get you," he replied casually as he jumped down from his perch. His blue eyes scanned me with a look of concern, but he knew better than to say anything. I didn't take well to people butting in to my health. Will could fervently attest to that.

"Have you heard what happened?" Luke asked. His gaze flickered to Tyson again, who was watching us with wide eyes. A look of distaste crossed his face, and I hastened to reply before Tyson could get upset.

"To Grover? I had a dream about him being chased last night. Or do you mean camp? All I know about that is Chiron IMed me yesterday evening and told me not to come back because there was some trouble going on."

"Some trouble," Luke snorted bitterly, looking uncharacteristically dark. "Sure, guess that's one-way of putting it."

"What happened?" I demanded, stepping closer to him and crossing my arms.

"Where'd you pick that up?" Luke jerked his head at Tyson.

My lips pulled in as I went thin-lipped from anger. I hated that I did that, but every time I got pissed off, in they went.

" _That_ is a _he_ , and he has a name," I snapped at him. "It's Tyson. And don't go avoiding the question, Castellan. What happened at Camp?"

"How'd you know i-his name?" Luke asked me incredulously, correcting the pronoun at my vicious glare.

"He told me!"  
"That thing can talk?"

"I talk," Tyson confirmed. "JB called Ana, child of the Sea God?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "Poseidon is my father."

Tyson frowned at that. "But-"

"Damn," Luke muttered. He sighed, obviously unhappy with whatever he had decided, then turned back to me. "C'mon," he ordered, ignoring my lethal glare and beginning to head for the beach exit. The sirens were near now, and I could see firefighters running for the beach.

"We've gotta go," Luke continued. "Bring, uh, Tyson. We need to check out before the cops catch up with us."

I hated it when he was right.

Jerking my head at Tyson to get him moving, the three of us cleared the sand right as the emergency services reached our rock.

Everyone was so distracted checking for anyone who might have been caught in the 'freak mini-tsunami', that no one noticed the three of us heading for the road.

"Alright," Luke said once we'd hit the road. "Here'll do."  
"Do for what?" I demanded grumpily. I thought about punching him, (hey, for mortals it's abuse, for half-bloods it's communication, okay? Gimme a break.) but it would take too much effort, and my ribs were still loudly protesting their rough treatment.

"Summoning the Grey Sisters' cab," Luke explained, glancing down at me. "Remember it?"

I nodded after a moment of furious thought. That was right. In the Ancient Days, the Grey Sisters had lived in a cave and peddled information for money or whatever. Now they drove demigods and other Greek mythological beings around the New York area.

"Right then," Luke nodded. "Got a drachma? We'll need to pay extra for, Tyson."

Silently I pulled out my Greek purse from one of the pouches sewn onto my black cargo pants and passed it to him. He gave me a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes, and I felt my concern begin to increase. Whatever had happened was worse than I had feared, I just knew it.

" _Stêthi,"_ he shouted in Ancient Greek. _"Ô hárma diabolês!"_

As usual, the moment he spoke in the language of Olympus, I somehow understood it.

He'd said: Stop, Chariot of Damnation!

That didn't exactly make me feel real excited about taking a ride from three women with a single eye between them. Not that I'd been looking forward to it in the first place.

He threw the coin he held onto the street, but instead of clattering on the asphalt, the drachma sank right through and disappeared.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, just where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking space—bubbling red liquid like blood. Then a car erupted from the ooze.

It was a taxi, all right, but unlike every other taxi I had seen, it wasn't yellow. It was smoky grey. I mean it looked like it was woven out of smoke, like you could walk right through it. There were words printed on the door, something like GYAR SSIRES, but my dyslexia made it hard for me to decipher what it said. Probably Grey Sisters, I guess. That made more sense than anything else, but when it came to the world of living myths and legends, counting on things to make sense never made sense.

The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a mop of grizzled hair covering her eyes, and she spoke in a weird mumbling way, like she'd just had a shot of Novocain. "Passage? Passage?"

"Three to Camp Half-Blood," Luke said as he opened the door and gestured at me to climb in.

"Ach!" the old woman screeched. "We don't take his kind!"

She pointed a bony finger at Tyson.

Bitch.

"Extra pay," Luke promised. "Three more drachmae on arrival."

"Done!" the woman screamed.

Reluctantly I got in the cab. Tyson squeezed in the middle. Luke crawled in last.

The interior was also smoky grey, but it felt solid enough. The seat was cracked and lumpy, no different than most taxis. There was no Plexiglas screen separating us from the old ladies in the front. There were three, all crammed in the front seat, each with stringy hair covering her face, bony hands, and a charcoal-coloured sackcloth dress. And one eye shared between them all. Did I mention that? One eye, and they were our drivers.

How embarrassing would it be, for a demigod to die in something so mundane as a car crash?

The one driving said, "Long Island! Out-of-metro fare bonus! Ha!"

She floored the accelerator, and my head slammed against the backrest. A pre-recorded voice came on over the speaker: _Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!_

I looked down and found a large black chain instead of a seat belt. I decided I wasn't that desperate … yet.

The cab sped around the corner of West Broadway, and the Grey Sister sitting in the middle screeched, "Look out! Go left!"

"Well, if you'd give me the eye, Tempest, I could see that!" the driver complained.

Well, that answered the question of who had the ability to see out of the trio, at least.

"Wasp!" the third lady said to the driver. "Give me the coin! I want to bite it."

"You bit it last time, Anger!" said the driver, whose name must've been Wasp. "It's my turn!"

"Is not!" yelled the one called Anger.

The middle one, Tempest, screamed, "Tree!"

"Brake!" yelled Anger.

Instead, Wasp floored the accelerator and rode up on the hill, screeching around another corner, and knocking over a (thankfully empty) lemonade stand. She left my stomach a couple of miles back. Oh, Luke was so going to regret putting me through this. I would have my revenge, and it would be cold and sweet. If I lived, that is.

Next to me, Tyson groaned and grabbed the seat. "Not feeling so good."

"Shit," I said, because I'd seen Tyson get carsick once before and it was not something you wanted to be within fifty feet of. "Hang in there, baby. Are we there yet?"

The three Grey Sisters were too busy squabbling to pay me any attention. I looked over at Luke, who was hanging on for dear life, and I gave him an I-am-going-to-make-you-suffer-for-this look.

"Hey," he said defensively. "Grey Sisters Taxi is the fastest way to camp."

"I am going to gut you and send your remains to Tartarus." At this point, I was dead serious about my threat. Luke winced, eyeing me like I was poisonous or something. At my dark scowl, he quickly looked away.

"We've had famous people in this cab!" Anger exclaimed. "Jason! You remember him?"

"Don't remind me!" Wasp wailed. "And we didn't have a cab back then, you old bat. That was three thousand years ago!"

"Give me the tooth!" Anger tried to grab at Wasp's mouth, but Wasp swatted her hand away.

"Only if Tempest gives me the eye!"

"No!" Tempest screeched. "You had it yesterday!"

"But I'm driving, you old hag!"

"Excuses! Turn! That was your turn!"

Wasp swerved hard, squishing me between Tyson and the door. She punched the gas and we shot up the road at seventy miles an hour.

The three sisters were fighting for real now, slapping each other as Anger tried to grab at Wasp's face and Wasp tried to grab at Tempest's.

Finally Anger, who had the advantage of sight, managed to yank the tooth out of her sister Wasp's mouth. This made Wasp so mad she swerved toward the edge of the sea beside us, yelling, "'Ivit back! 'Ivit back!"

Tyson groaned and clutched his stomach.

"Luke when we die, I am going to make your afterlife an undead hell!" I screeched. "You're going to wish that you got sent to Punishment when I'm done with you!"

"Don't worry," Luke told me, sounding pretty worried. "The Grey Sisters know what they're doing. They're really very good."

I glared at him, and he winced in anticipation of the pain I would visit on him for this hellish trip. He knew how much I hated cars, and then took me in this one! The only good thing was that I was too busy fearing for my life to have a flashback.

"Yes, wise!" Anger grinned in the rear-view mirror, showing off her newly acquired tooth. "We know things!"

"Every street in Manhattan!" Wasp bragged, still hitting her sister. "The capital of Nepal!"

How completely _not_ useful. I didn't give half a damn about freaking Nepal!

"The location you seek!" Tempest added.

Immediately her sisters pummelled her from either side, screaming, "Be quiet! Be quiet! She didn't even ask yet!"

"What?" I said. "What location? I'm not seeking any—"

"Nothing!" Tempest said. "You're right, girl. It's nothing!"

"Tell me."

"No!" they all screamed.

"The last time we told, it was horrible!" Tempest said.

"Eye tossed in a lake!" Anger agreed.

"Years to find it again!" Wasp moaned. "And speaking of that—give it back!"

"No!" yelled Anger.

"Eye!" Wasp yelled. "Gimme!"

She whacked her sister Anger on the back. There was a sickening pop and something flew out of Anger's face. Anger fumbled for it, trying to catch it, but she only managed to bat it with the back of her hand. The slimy green orb sailed over her shoulder, into the backseat, and straight into my lap.

I jumped so hard, my head hit the ceiling and the eyeball rolled away.

"I can't see!" all three sisters yelled.

"Give me the eye!" Wasp wailed.

"Give her the eye!" Luke screamed.

"I don't have it!" I cried.

"There, by your foot," Luke said. "Don't step on it! Get it!"

"I'm not touching that thing!"

The taxi slammed against the guardrail and skidded along with a horrible grinding noise. The whole car shuddered, billowing grey smoke as if it were about to dissolve from the strain. Tyson groaned, clutching his stomach.

"Are you crazy?" Luke yelled at me. "Get the eye!"

"Don't tell me what to do! This is all your fault!"

Wasp yanked the wheel, and the taxi swerved away from the rail. We hurtled down a bridge, going faster than any human taxi. The Grey Sisters screeched and pummelled each other and cried out for their eye.

At last I steeled my nerves. I ripped off a chunk of my formerly-beautiful shirt, which was already falling apart from all the burn marks, and used it to pick the eyeball off the floor.

"Nice girl!" Anger cried, as if she somehow knew I had her missing eye. "Give it back!"

"Not until you explain," I told her. "What were you talking about, the location I seek?"

"No time!" Tempest cried. "Accelerating!"

I looked out the window. Sure enough, trees and cars and whole neighbourhoods were now zipping by in a grey blur. We were heading through the middle of Long Island.

"Ana," Luke warned, "they can't find our destination without the eye. We'll just keep accelerating until we break into a million pieces."

"First they have to tell me," I said. "Or I'll open the window and throw the eye into oncoming traffic."

"No!" the Grey Sisters wailed. "Too dangerous!"

"I'm rolling down the window."

"Wait!" the Grey Sisters screamed. "30, 31, 75, 12!"

They belted it out like a quarterback calling a play.

"What do you mean?" I said. "That makes no sense!"

"30, 31, 75, 12!" Anger wailed. "That's all we can tell you. Now give us the eye! Almost to camp!"

We were off the highway now, zipping through the countryside of northern Long Island. I could see Half-Blood Hill ahead of us, with its giant pine tree at the crest, Thalia's tree, which contained the life force of a fallen hero and Luke's lost best friend.

"Ana!" Luke said more urgently. "Give them the eye now!"

I threw the eye into Wasp's lap.

The old lady snatched it up, pushed it into her eye socket like somebody putting in a contact lens, and blinked. "Whoa!"

She slammed on the brakes. The taxi spun four or five times in a cloud of smoke and squealed to a halt in the middle of the farm road at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

Tyson let loose a huge belch. "Better now."

"All right," I told the Grey Sisters. "Now tell me what those numbers mean."

"No time!" Luke slammed open his door. "We have to get out now."

I was about to ask why, when I looked up at Half-Blood Hill and understood, feeling my heart fall to my stomach.

At the crest of the hill was a group of campers. And they were under attack.


	3. Bullfighting

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Bullfighting 2.0**

Mythologically speaking, if there's anything I hate worse as much as trios of old ladies, it's bulls. Old lady trios are forever predicting grim fates, and magic bulls are grey-hair-causing difficult to fight.

Last summer, I fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls, oh no. These were massive bronze ones. And even _that_ wasn't bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.

As soon as we exited the taxi, the Grey Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer and unaffected by the dangers of being around half-bloods. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left us on the side of the road, Luke with nothing but his sword, Tyson and I still in our burned-up clothes.

"Shit," Luke said flatly, looking at the battle raging on the hill with a grim look on his face.

What worried me most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armour who were getting their bronze-plated butts kicked. No, the most worrying thing that I saw was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice, gruff and familiar.

' _Border patrol?_ ' I thought. The camp didn't have a border patrol, not since Thalia's tree became the source of our (supposed to be) impenetrable wards.

"It's Clarisse," Luke told me. "Come on, we have to help her."

Normally, I would scoff at the notion of Clarisse needing help. She was a daughter of Ares and one of the best fighters at camp. The best at hand-to-hand and spear fighting. She could hold her own with ease.

But not this time. This time she was in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horsehair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk.

Clarisse's own armour was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder.

I yanked out my hairpin and twisted the emerald, causing it to expand into its' sword form.

"Tyson, stay here," I ordered.

"But-" he began.

"Ana, we need his help," Luke aided in the protest. I shot him a furious look.

"Tyson's a _baby_ ," I hissed. "And it's not his fight either!"

"Wanna help," Tyson insisted. I opened my mouth to refuse again, but a scream from above cut me off.

"Fine!" I spat, utterly enraged at being forced into a corner. These damn bulls were gonna get it for putting me in this position. "Hurry up!" I added sharply, turning to rush up the hill, the boys following at my heels. I didn't notice Tyson stopping at the crest to beat at the invisible barrier, too intent on the battle.

Clarisse was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide-and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.

Unfortunately, Clarisse could only muster six campers. The other four were still running around with their helmets on fire. Luke ran toward them, trying to help. He taunted one of the bulls into chasing him, then activated his magic shoes and flew into the air, completely confusing the monster. The other bull charged Clarisse's line.

The bull moved deadly fast for something so big. Its' metal hide gleamed in the sun. It had fist-sized rubies for eyes, and horns of polished silver. When it opened its' hinged mouth, a column of white-hot flame blasted out.

"Hold the line!" Clarisse ordered her warriors.

Whatever else you could say about Clarisse, she was brave. She was a big girl with eyes like her father's. She looked like she was born to wear Greek battle armour, but I didn't see how even she could stand against that bull's charge.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the other bull lost interest in fighting Luke. It turned, wheeling around behind Clarisse on her unprotected side.

I could have yelled to warn her, but I would have only distracted her. Instead, I threw Anaklusmos like a javelin. I didn't think it would actually do any damage other than distracting it, but it _did_ sink into its' side. Unfortunately, it turned its' attention to me. And I was now weaponless, and would be until Anaklusmos reappeared in my hair. Fuck my luck.

Luke shouted orders to the other heroes, telling them to spread out and keep the bulls distracted. Somehow, I found myself on the inside of the boundary line, backing away from the threat I was currently helpless to fight.

Bull Number One ran a wide arc, making its way back toward me. As it passed the middle of the hill, where the invisible boundary line should've kept it out, it slowed down a little, as if it were struggling against a strong wind; but then it broke through and kept coming. Bull Number Two turned to face me, fire sputtering from the gash I'd cut in its' side. I couldn't tell if it felt any pain, but its' ruby eyes seemed to glare at me like I'd just made things personal.

Bull Number Two blew flames at me. I jumped aside as the air turned to pure heat. All the oxygen was sucked out of my lungs. My foot caught on something, a tree root, maybe, and pain shot up my ankle. My broken ribs throbbed in protest, and I spat a glob of blood to the side.

An archer shot an arrow, hitting it in the ear. It galloped away, wild and disoriented. But before I could feel too good about that, I tried to stand, and my left leg buckled underneath me. My ankle was at least sprained, maybe broken.

Bull Number One charged straight toward me. No way could I crawl out of its' path.

"Tyson, help her!" Luke cried, he himself too far to help me personally.

Somewhere near, toward the crest of the hill, Tyson wailed, "Can't—get—through!"

"I, Luke Castellan, give you permission to enter camp!"

Thunder shook the hillside. Suddenly Tyson was there, barrelling toward me, yelling: "Ana needs help!"

He dove between me and the bull just as it unleashed a nuclear firestorm.

"Tyson!" I yelled in terror. Fireproof or not, surely he had limits?

The blast swirled around him like a red tornado. I could only see the black silhouette of his body. For a moment, I was convinced that he had been turned to a crisp from it.

But when the fire died, Tyson was still standing there, completely unharmed. Not even his grungy clothes were scorched. The bull must've been as surprised as I was, because before it could unleash a second blast, Tyson balled his fists and slammed them into the bull's face. "BAD COW!"

His fists made a crater where the bronze bull's snout used to be. Two small columns of flame shot out of its ears. Tyson hit it again, and the bronze crumpled under his hands like aluminium foil.

The bull's face now looked like a sock puppet pulled inside out. I let out a choked laugh at sight, feeling dazed from my injuries and shock.

"Down!" Tyson yelled.

The bull staggered and fell on its back. Its legs moved feebly in the air, steam coming out of its ruined head in odd places.

Luke flew over to check on me. His face was pale, a tone unnatural for a child of a Greek god. We tended to have tanned complexions.

My ankle felt like it was filled with acid, but he gave me some Olympian nectar to drink from his canteen, and I immediately started to feel better. There was a burning smell that I later learned was me. The hair on my arms had been completely singed off.

"The other bull?" I asked.

Luke pointed down the hill. Clarisse had taken care of Bad Cow Number Two. She'd impaled it through the back leg with a celestial bronze spear. Now, with its' snout half gone and a huge gash in its' side, it was trying to run in slow motion, going in circles like some kind of merry-go-round animal.

When she was done, she rushed over. Her expression had the same grimness that every camper I had seen that day did.

"Ana, you okay?" she asked, a faint trace of concern lacing her rough tone. "You usually wouldn't go down so easily." I nodded tiredly, feeling my adrenaline leech out of me.

"I had an encounter with some cannibals earlier," I explained briefly. "Broke my ribs. And I think I sprained my ankle."

"Broke," Will, who had also appeared and was examining said ankle. "You _broke_ your ankle. Seriously Ana, haven't you ever heard of self-preservation?"

"No, what's that?" I deadpanned. Luke smirked, helping me to my feet.

"I take it the Cyclops is the reason you've been away for so long," Clarisse stated, her voice going blank.

I winced, nodding. "He's a baby," I repeated my earlier claim. "He's not a threat."

"I suppose we'll have to trust your judgement," she huffed, eyeing a nervous looking Tyson sternly. "But meanwhile, Will and I have to go check on the others. You sure you're good?"

"Yeah," I nodded again. "Don't worry about me, just go."

"Welcome home," Will gave me a half-grin that didn't reach his eyes before the two of them turned to rush over to the injured 'border patrol'.

"Ana," Tyson fidgeted anxiously. "What's goin' on?"

I gave him a strained smile. "Don't worry about it, Baby," I murmured. "Just, hush for a bit, 'kay?"

He nodded obediently, plopping on the ground. Then I turned my attention to the more important things going on.

I stared around at the scene in dismay. The whole side of the hill was burning.

Wounded heroes needed attention. And there were still two banged-up bronze bulls to dispose of, which I didn't figure would fit in our normal recycling bins.

Clarisse came back over and wiped the soot off her forehead. "Ana, if you can walk, let's go. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what's happened."

"Tantalus?" I asked, blinking bemusedly.

"The new activities director," Clarisse said impatiently. She was never good when it came to having to explain things to people.

"Chiron is the activities director," I protested, a sick feeling growing in my stomach. Luke didn't meet my eyes when I looked at him. "And where's Argus?" I added. "He's the head of security. Why isn't he here?"

Clarisse made a sour face. "Argus got fired. You've been gone too long. Things are changing."

"But Chiron … He's trained kids to fight monsters for over three thousand years. He can't just be _gone_. What happened?"

"That happened," Clarisse snapped, losing her temper at my continuing lack of understanding.

She pointed to Thalia's tree.

Every camper knew the story behind the tree. Six years ago, Grover, Luke, and two other demigods named Thalia and Annabeth had come to Camp Half-Blood chased by an army of monsters. When they got cornered on top of this hill, Thalia, the reason they were being chased by such a large group of enemies, had made her last stand here to give her friends time to reach safety. As she was dying, her father, Zeus, took pity on her and changed her into a pine tree. Her spirit had reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters. The pine had been here ever since, strong and healthy.

But now, its' needles were yellow. A huge pile of dead ones littered the base of the tree. In the centre of the trunk, three feet from the ground, was a puncture mark the size of a bullet hole, oozing green sap.

A sliver of ice ran through my chest. I let out a gasp of horror and slammed a hand over my open mouth. Now I understood why the camp was in danger. The magical borders were failing because Thalia's tree was dying.

Someone had poisoned it.


	4. I Get A New Roommate

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Four**

**I Get A New Roommate**

Ever go into your bedroom and get the feeling that even though it all looks the same on the outside, you get the awful suspicion that on the inside, everything is completely different? Completely wrong?

That's what I felt like, seeing Camp Half-Blood again after over two months. The last time I had been here, everything was normal. Kids were doing their lessons outside under Chiron's careful eye (demigods didn't learn well stuck at desks in classroom, and Chiron had long since learned the best way to teach us anything we needed to know.), others were sparring and doing other activities, while still others tended the strawberry fields.

It all seemed wrong now.

On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley, the amphitheatre, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins, a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counsellors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.

Somebody had messed with my favourite place in the world, and I was not … well, a happy camper.

As we made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer and during the year. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back," or asked about my latest trip outside of the wards, like they had every other time I returned home. Some did double-takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties, running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school. And believe me, I know. I've been both kicked out and run away from a couple. It wasn't all like the camp I knew, and I hated it instantly.

"Luke, what happened?" I whispered to him. My distress leaked into my tone, and he reached out to grab my hand and rub his thumb over my knuckles without glancing at me.

"It's a long story," he explained gruffly. "Chiron will be able to explain better than me."

Tyson was oblivious to both the looks given to him by various campers, and the air of oncoming doom that had engulfed my home. No, Tyson was fascinated by the whole place. He kept pointing at stuff and asking what it was. Truthfully, I was in a bit too stressed for it right then.

"Whasthat!" he gasped.

"The stables for pegasi," I said as patiently as I could. "The winged horses."

"Whasthat!"

"Um … those are the toilets."

"Whasthat!"

"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes cabin, that brown one over there. Luke is the head counsellor of it, until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."

He looked at me in awe. "You … have a cabin?"

"Number three." My voice went crisp as I pointed to a low grey building made of sea stone.

"You live with friends in the cabin?"

"No. It's just me." I didn't elaborate. The truth is, I was the only one who stayed in that cabin because I wasn't supposed to be alive.

The "Big Three" gods, Zeus, my father Poseidon, and Hades, had made a pact after World War II not to have any more children with mortals. It was for two reasons. The official reason? We were more powerful than regular half-bloods. We were too unpredictable. When we got mad we tended to cause problems … like World War II, for instance.

The unofficial reason was that the Oracle had predicted a half-blood of the Elder Three was going to either save or destroy the world. Currently, yours truly was the only candidate for that particular disaster. As you can imagine, I don't really like talking about it.

The "Big Three" pact had only been broken twice, once when Zeus sired Thalia, once when Poseidon sired me. Neither of us should've been born.

Thalia had died and turned into a tree when she was twelve. Me? I was determined to die of something ridiculously boring and mundane. Like cancer or a car crash. Preferably before I turned sixteen and destroyed Western Civilization. I figured that'd be a nicely ironic way to spite the Fates.

When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favourite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. Of course, to me the 'music' sounded more like a cat being brutally tortured, but I loved Chiron too much to say so.

As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. I covered my eyes with my hand briefly.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

I suddenly registered that Chiron was packing, remembered what Clarisse had said about the new activities director, and I ran up and hugged him. "Chiron, what's happening?" I asked as I buried my head in his shoulder. "You're not … leaving?" My voice was shaky as I pulled back to give him an imploring look. Chiron was the closest thing to a parent I had since my mom died.

Chiron ruffled my hair and gave me a kindly smile. "Hello, child. My goodness. You've grown over the past few months!"

He gave Tyson a brief look and then raised an exasperated eyebrow at me. "I take it this young Cyclops is the reason you've been away for so long?"

I sniffed and nodded. "This is Tyson," I introduced them miserably. "I found him right after leaving the last time. But never mind that. You can't leave! Chiron, we need you!"

Chiron's eyes glinted with uncharacteristically dark humour. "Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr. D had to punish someone."

"Besides himself, you mean," I growled. I wasn't particularly fond of Mr. D in the first place, and the knowledge that he was sending Chiron away was enough to make me contemplate the odds of whether or not I could push him into Tartarus.

"But this is crazy!" Luke cried. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"

"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" I asked, bemused. Chiron was the most loyal subject of Olympus I had ever met. How could the gods not trust him, especially when he'd being responsible for training their children for millennia? It made no sense.

Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin-English dictionary into his saddlebag while the Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boom box.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?"

Chiron sniffed. "My dear young Cyclops! I am a _centaur._ "

"Chiron," I pressed. "What about the tree? What happened?"

He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Ana. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."

"Then we know who's responsible. Kro—"

"Do not invoke the titan lord's name, Ana. Especially not here, not now. You know better than that."

"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This _has_ to be his idea. He'd get _them_ to do it, those traitors." I suddenly winced, tossing Luke an apologetic look. As usual, his face had darkened at the mention of Annabeth and Ethan's betrayal.

"Perhaps," Chiron acknowledged. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless …"

"Unless what?" Luke demanded, seizing on the words.

"No," Chiron shook his head. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."

"What is it?" I pressed eagerly. "We'll go find it!"

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the stop button on his boom box. Then he turned and rested his hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eyes. "Ana, you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told you I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave again."

"Why?" I protested. "I want to do something! I can't just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be—"

"Overrun by monsters," Chiron said. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life."

It was true, but still, I wanted to help so badly. I also wanted to make Kronos pay. I mean, you'd think the titan lord would've learned his lesson eons ago when he was overthrown by the gods. You'd think getting chopped into a million pieces and cast into the darkest part of the Underworld would give him a subtle clue that nobody wanted him around. But _no_. Because he was immortal, he was still alive down there in Tartarus, suffering in eternal pain, hungering to return and take revenge on Olympus. He couldn't act on his own, but he was great at twisting the minds of mortals and even gods to do his dirty work.

The poisoning had to be his doing. Who else would be so low as to attack Thalia's tree, the only thing left of a hero who'd given her life to save her friends?

And the whole 'don't act rashly' thing. That was difficult for me. I was perfectly willing to admit and accept that I tended to jump first and look later. But 'sitting back and doing nothing was even less like me. I needed to take action, to barge in head first and fix things. Not stand back and watch helplessly as my home was destroyed.

Luke let out a shaky breath, his bright blue eyes glimmering slightly from held back tears. Chiron pulled him into a hug for a moment.

"Stay with Ana, child," he instructed Luke. "Be wary, and remember the oath you took last year. And remember the prophecy!"

At another time, I would have been tempted to press and find out if he was talking about the prophecy about the end of the world, but not right now. Right now I was biting my lip so hard I could taste blood to keep from crying.

"Chiron …" Luke said, his voice as shaky as mine had been. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—"

I moaned slightly in horror, and Chiron shook his head.

"Don't worry about me," he insisted. "Just worry about yourselves and each other. Stay together. You will need each other." He stood back and straightened his shoulders. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return. Until then, I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved … one way or another."

I stifled a sob and Chiron patted my shoulder awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. We must hope … well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."

"Who the Tartarus is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" I demanded, trying to replace my upset with the easier to deal with emotion of anger. "Where does he get off taking your job?"

A conch horn blew across the valley. I hadn't realized how late it was. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner.

"Go," Chiron ordered us. "You will meet him at the pavilion. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the Titan Lord has forgotten you!"

With that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"

I realized I'd forgotten to tell Chiron about my dream of Grover. Now it was too late. The closest thing I had to a parent was gone, maybe for good.

Tyson started bawling, and Luke sat down on the floor, burying his head in his hands despairingly. I tried to tell them that things would be okay, but I didn't believe it and it came across in my voice and expression. Tears were falling down my cheeks unchecked.

The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins.

We stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in. Luke was still pretty shaken up, but he promised he'd talk to us later. Then, after checking I was holding myself together, he went off to join the Hermes cabin.

Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares cabin. She had one arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but otherwise her encounter with the bronze bulls didn't seem to have fazed her.

Someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that said, YOU MOO, GIRL! But nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about it. I caught her eye and made a series of vague gestures to alert her. She quickly grabbed it off and cast a threatening look at the Stoll twins, the resident pranksters of the Camp.

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin, six kids led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen-year-old African American kid. He had hands the size of catchers' mitts and a face that was hard and squinty from looking into a blacksmiths forge all day. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles. Most just called him Beckendorf.

He was the best creator in camp, and he could make anything. Give him a chunk of metal and he could create a razor-sharp sword or a robotic warrior or a singing birdbath for your grandmother's garden. Whatever you wanted. A few weeks ago I challenged him over an IM to create a phone that didn't attract monsters, and as far as I knew he was making progress.

The other cabins filed in: Demeter, led my friend Katie, Apollo, Will giving me a nod, Aphrodite, Silena looking uncharacteristically grim, Athena with Malcolm at the head, and Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake. Dryads melted out of the trees. From the meadow came a dozen satyrs, who reminded me painfully of Grover.

As soon as the last campers had filed in, I led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion.

Conversations faltered. Heads turned. "Who invited that?" somebody at the Apollo table murmured.

I glared in their direction, but I couldn't figure out who'd spoken.

From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Amy Johnson. My millennium is complete."

I gritted my teeth. "Ana Jackson … sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: Whatever."

He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D one at a time.

Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was someone I'd never seen before, a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jumpsuit. The number over his pocket read 0001. He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut grey hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker. He stared at me; his eyes made me nervous. He looked … fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry all at the same time. It was creepy, and I suddenly wished I had my sword in hand to decapitate him with.

"This girl," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's child, you know."

"Ah!" the prisoner said. "That one."

His tone made it obvious that he and Dionysus had already discussed me at length.

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Anaea Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

"Trouble?" I demanded.

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

I was too mad to speak. Like it was my fault the gods had almost gotten into a civil war?

A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will work."

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

I snapped my fingers in sudden realization. "You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," I declared. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

"A real scholar, aren't you, girl?" Tantalus scoffed, eyes flashing dangerously. I met his challenge, deliberately donning my most infuriatingly cocky expression, one that had driven many a foster parent and social worker to homicidal fits. He thought he could come in here and replace Chiron? I'd make him _wish_ that he was still in the Underworld.

"Didn't you murder your own son and feed him to the gods?" I asked in a sickly sweet tone. "Parenting of the Year, hun. Great idea, putting you in charge of a bunch of kids and teenagers."

A ripple of muttering had started up among the campers at my accusation. The younger campers were pulled to their elder siblings' sides protectively, and others grasped at their cutlery tightly, narrowing their eyes at Tantalus suspiciously. My smirk grew.

"I'll be watching you, Ana Jackson," Tantalus said, in what I assume he meant to be a threatening tone. Someone should have told him that I was born without self-preservation instincts. "I don't want any problems at my camp."

"Your camp has problems already … sir."

"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. "I believe that table over there is yours, the one where no one else ever wants to sit."

I had to bite my tongue, but I knew better than to talk back. Dionysus was an overgrown brat, but he was an immortal, superpowerful overgrown brat. As much as I liked adrenaline rushes, I wasn't _that_ bad.

"Fine," I bit out. "Come on, Tyson."

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

My eyes darkened, and I felt the ground beneath my feet tremble slightly. I really hoped that wasn't me. I wasn't in the mood for another power advance.

" _Him_ ," I snapped. "His name is Tyson."

The new activities director raised an eyebrow.

"Tyson saved the camp," I insisted. "He pounded those bronze bulls. Otherwise they would've burned down this whole place."

"Yes," Tantalus sighed, "and what a pity that would've been."

"Yes, you'd have to go back to Punishment again," I snapped, making his expression darken again.

Dionysus snickered.

"Leave us," Tantalus ordered, "while we decide this creature's fate."

Tyson looked at me with fear in his one big eye, but I knew I couldn't disobey a direct order from the camp directors. Not openly, anyway.

"I'll be right over here, baby," I promised. "Don't worry. Everything'll be fine."

Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."

Which made me feel a whole lot guiltier.

I trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench. A wood nymph brought me a plate of Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza, but I wasn't hungry. I'd been almost killed twice today. I'd caused a tsunami and possibly gained the ability to create earthquakes. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron had told me not to do anything about it.

I didn't feel very thankful, but I took my dinner, as was customary, up to the bronze brazier and scraped part of it into the flames.

"Poseidon," I murmured, "accept my offering."

The smoke from the burning pizza changed into something fragrant, the smell of a clean sea breeze with wild-flowers mixed in, but I had no idea if that meant my father was really paying attention. I scraped in a bit for Hestia and the other minor gods as I always did, then returned to my table to rub worriedly at my temples and pick at my food glumly.

I didn't think things could get much worse. But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches.

I smirked, along with most of the other campers. Tantalus wasn't making himself popular, at least.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

Considering who was speaking, I wasn't surprised that I wasn't the only person to reach for my sword and glare at him.

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some halfhearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"

Murmuring broke out at all the tables, excitement, fear and disbelief filled the air.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," Austin at the Apollo table called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

An explosion of excited conversation, no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning? Was he serious?

But apparently I wasn't the only person unconcerned with games at the moment.

"But, sir!" Clarisse objected. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots—"

"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't—"

"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"

"But the tree—"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Ana Jackson and Luke Castellan have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers. A lot of sideways looks at me. I wanted to kill Tantalus. Again.

"Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its' brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. Luke grimaced and developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. I couldn't blame him. The Hermes cabin was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a six-foot-three Cyclops. And I knew why Luke didn't like Cyclopses.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kennelled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped.

Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the brilliant green light that was about to change my life, a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.

Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident, the same symbol that had appeared above me the day Poseidon had claimed me as his daughter.

There was a moment of awed silence.

Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When I'd been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt. But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Everybody laughed except my friends.

Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were.

But I got it.

I had a new cabin mate.


	5. The Birds

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Five**

**The Birds: The Greek Myth Edition**

The next few days were stressful, to say the least. Don't get me wrong, I love Tyson. What I do not like, is people making fun of him, and pissing me off when I'm already freaked out about Camp and Grover. Thankfully, after I systematically sent nineteen kids to the infirmary within a week (under the guise of teaching swordsmanship classes), the looks and comments all stopped. I was banned from the chariot races for it by Tantalus, but I hadn't really cared about them anyway.

And from the start, my amazing friends never said a word against him (at least where I could hear it.). Instead, we all worried together over Grover and the Camp's respective predicaments. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything we could do, save organize border patrols on the sly (Tantalus insisted that they weren't necessary, and wouldn't let official patrols be organized.), so we tended to just get on with everything and pray to the gods for inspiration. That we were resorting to asking our non-responsive parents for help was a mark of how bad things had gotten.

I loathed being helpless more than anything else in the world, so I tried to keep my mind off my problems as much as I could.

Silena gave me my first riding lesson on a pegasus. She explained that there was only one immortal winged horse named Pegasus, who still wandered free somewhere in the skies, but over the eons he'd sired a lot of children, none quite so fast or heroic, but all named after the first and greatest.

Being the daughter of the sea god, I never liked going into the air. Poseidon had this rivalry with Zeus, so I tried to stay out of the lord of the sky's domain as much as possible. But riding a winged horse felt different. I had always loved horses, and the pegasi didn't make me nearly as nervous as being in an airplane. Maybe that was because my dad had created horses out of sea foam, so the pegasi were sort of … neutral territory, I suppose.

I could understand their thoughts. I wasn't surprised when my pegasus went galloping over the treetops or chased a flock of seagulls into a cloud.

The problem was that Tyson wanted to ride the "chicken ponies," too, but the pegasi got skittish whenever he approached. I told them telepathically that Tyson wouldn't hurt them, but they didn't seem to believe me. That made Tyson cry.

The only person at camp who had no problem with Tyson was Beckendorf. The blacksmith god had always worked with Cyclopes in his forges, so Beckendorf took Tyson down to the armoury to teach him metalworking. He said he'd have Tyson crafting magic items like a master in no time. I honest-to-the-gods threw my arms around him in a hug for his support. My other friends did their best, but their discomfort came across when they were around Tyson.

After lunch, I worked out in the arena with Clarisse and her siblings. Swordplay had always been my strength, from my first day here. And it had only improved over the past year. But while I thrashed them all in swordplay, in wrestling they kicked my ass. Turnabout's fair play, I guess.

Then I scaled the climbing wall, in full earthquake-and-lava mode and went swimming with the Naiads. Despite what people think, they make excellent conversationalists. And I had border patrol in the evenings, of course. But nothing could break me from my melancholy mood.

And I was stressed enough to find himself on the verge of losing my temper with Tyson several times, despite reminding myself that he was just a child and couldn't help acting the way he did. It was hard to use that helpfully, when I remembered that by the time I was six, I had already lost my mother and was fending for myself in the system and on the streets.

I sat at the top of Half-Blood Hill and watched the dryads come and go, singing to the dying pine tree. Satyrs brought their reed pipes and played nature magic songs, and for a while the pine needles seemed to get fuller. The flowers on the hill smelled a little sweeter and the grass looked greener. But as soon as the music stopped, the sickness crept back into the air. The whole hill seemed to be infected, dying from the poison that had sunk into the tree's roots. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got.

Annabeth and Ethan had done this. I remembered Annabeth's sly smile, the smug expression Ethan had worn as I collapsed in pain from the poison coursing through me. Luke had loved them both, and the whole time they'd been Kronos's top servants.

I opened the palm of my hand. The scar Annabeth's conjured scorpion had given me last summer was fading, but I could still see it, a white asterisk-shaped wound where it had stung me.

I thought about what Annabeth had told me right before she'd tried to kill me: Good-bye, Ana.

There is a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it.

At night, I had more dreams of Grover. Sometimes, I just heard snatches of his voice. Once, I heard him say: _It's here. Another time: He likes sheep._

I mentioned it to the others, but none of them knew what to think either. It could be actual dreams of Grover, but I could also be going insane from the stress of everything.

But the night before the chariot race, I had the longest, most worrying dream yet.

In my dream, Grover was wearing a wedding dress.

It didn't fit him very well. The gown was too long and the hem was caked with dried mud. The neckline kept falling off his shoulders. A tattered veil covered his face. I'm not a fashionista, but I still like looking nice. (Unfortunate when I'm a half-blood and spend half my time sleeping in alleys.) Grover's 'outfit' made me wince in horror.

He was standing in a dank cave, lit only by torches. There was a cot in one corner and an old-fashioned loom in the other, a length of white cloth half woven on the frame. And he was staring right at me, like I was a TV program he'd been waiting for. "Thank the gods!" he yelped. "Can you hear me?"

My dream-self was slow to respond. I was still looking around, taking in the stalactite ceiling, the stench of sheep and goats, the growling and grumbling and bleating sounds that seemed to echo from behind a refrigerator-sized boulder, which was blocking the room's only exit, as if there were a much larger cavern beyond it.

"Ana?" Grover said, his voice pleading. "Please, I don't have the strength to project any better. You have to hear me!"

"I hear you," I assured him. "Grover, what's going on?"

From behind the boulder, a monstrous voice yelled, "Honeypie! Are you done yet?"

Grover flinched. He called out in falsetto, "Not quite, dearest! A few more days!"

I'm not sure which horrified me most. The nickname 'honeypie', or the terror on Grover's face. No, actually, it was the nickname. Grover was terrified of everything, from enchilada day being cancelled to staring down the Lord of the Underworld.

"Bah!" the voice roared. "Hasn't it been two weeks yet?"

"N-no, dearest," Grover claimed. "Just five days. That still leaves twelve more to go."

The monster was silent, maybe trying to do the math. He must've been worse at arithmetic than I was, (which is impressive in its' own right.) because he said, "All right, but hurry! I want to SEEEEE under that veil, heh-heh-heh."

Grover turned back to me. "You have to help me! No time! I'm stuck in this cave. On an island in the sea."

"Where?" I demanded, trying to figure out how many islands there were to search around Florida. The answer: too fucking many.

"I don't know exactly! I went to Florida and turned left."

"What? How did you—"

"It's a trap!" Grover interrupted me urgently. "It's the reason no satyr has ever returned from this quest. He's a shepherd, Ana! And he has it. Its nature magic is so powerful it smells just like the great god Pan!

The satyrs come here thinking they've found Pan, and they get trapped and eaten by Polyphemus!"

"Poly-who?" The name was familiar, but my brain felt like sludge. I guess it was because I was asleep.

"The Cyclops!" Grover said, exasperated. "I almost got away. I made it all the way to St. Augustine."

"But he followed you," I finished, remembering my first dream. "And trapped you in a bridal boutique."

"That's right," Grover said. "My first empathy link must've worked then. Look, this bridal dress is the only thing keeping me alive. He thinks I smell good, but I told him it was just goat-scented perfume. Thank goodness he can't see very well. His eye is still half blind from the last time somebody poked it out. But soon he'll realize what I am. He's only giving me two weeks to finish the bridal train, and he's getting impatient!"

"Wait a minute. This Cyclops thinks you're—"

"Yes!" Grover wailed. "He thinks I'm a lady Cyclops and he wants to marry me!"

Under different circumstances, I might've burst out laughing, but Grover's voice was deadly serious. He was shaking with fear.

"I'll come rescue you," I promised. "Where are you?"

"The Sea of Monsters, of course!"

"The sea of what?"

"I told you! I don't know exactly where! And look, Ana … urn, I'm really sorry about this, but this empathy link … well, I had no choice. Our emotions are connected now. If I die …"

"Wait, let me guess. I'll die too."

"Oh, well, maybe not. You might live for years in a vegetative state. But, uh, it would be a lot better if you got me out of here."

"Honeypie!" the monster bellowed. "Dinnertime! Yummy yummy sheep meat!"

Grover whimpered. "I have to go. Hurry!"

"Wait! You said 'it' was here. What?"

But Grover's voice was already growing fainter. "Sweet dreams. Don't let me die!"

The dream faded and I woke with a start. It was early morning. Tyson was staring down at me, his one big brown eye full of concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

His voice sent a chill down my back, because he sounded almost exactly like the monster I'd heard in my dream.

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam.

Millions of birds were roosting in the trees, fat grey-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded me of submarine radar.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods.

Hephaestus' cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plough an oval track in a matter of minutes.

There were rows of stone steps for the spectators, Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate eclair across the judge's table.

It gave me a vicious sense of pleasure to see that he was suffering. He deserved it for taking Chiron's place. No, his job. Nothing and no-one could ever take Chiron's place.

"You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at us like we were all naughty children. I resisted the urge to punch him in his skeletal face. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had an awesome chariot made of bronze and iron, even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. I had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.

The Ares chariot was blood red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys. I pitied the charioteers who got in her way.

Apollo' chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes' chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by Luke and the Stoll brothers, and I shuddered to think what dirty tricks they'd schemed up together for the race.

The last one was the Athena cabin's chariot, which was aerodynamic, elegant, and driven by Malcolm and his sister Sophia.

Before the race started, I dragged Luke aside to tell him about my dream. His expression of alarm probably matched my own.

"I wonder if," he mumbled to himself. "No, it's too much of a coincidence. I'm grasping at straws."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, leaning in.

He ran a hand through his hair tensely. "Ana, I want to save Grover too, but we need more info. We don't even know where to find him, for Hermes' sake."

"We could consult the Oracle," I suggested, deadly serious. Luke's eyes widened. My nightmares of my last visit to the Oracle of Delphi had only stopped about four months ago. Luke knew that only pure desperation would drive me to suggest going to see it again.

Before he could answer, the conch horn sounded.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

We'll talk later," Luke told me. "After I win."

As I was walking back my place in the audience, I noticed how many more pigeons were in the trees now, screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. Nobody else seemed to be paying them much attention, but they made me nervous. Their beaks glinted strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and unease crawled up my spine.

As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly that the other campers in the stands were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered, though I stayed quiet, my gaze going continuously to the birds in the trees. the lack of patrols preyed in the back of my mind.

Almost immediately there was a loud nasty crack! I looked back in time to see the Apollo chariot flip over. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it, maybe by mistake, maybe not. The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track.

Luke, Travis and Connor, were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust. Serves them right.

Two chariots down in the first twenty feet. I loved this sport. And Luke's ego had no doubt taken a severe bashing, which it seriously needed. Another round of cawing ripped the smile from my face and I again looked back at the birds.

The yelling was so loud that it was hard to hear anything, but Tyson pointed toward the woods and I saw what he was worried about. The pigeons had risen from the trees. They were spiralling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track. My heart sank, and I reached to pull my pin from my hair. My sword appeared in my hands just in time to save me from losing an eye to the birds.

The damn things were swarming, thousands of them dive-bombing the stands and I could see them attacking the chariots as well. Beckendorf was mobbed. His fighter tried to bat the birds away but he couldn't see anything. The chariot veered off course and ploughed through the strawberry fields, the mechanical horses steaming.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Clarisse barking an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter's hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.

The spectators with me weren't so lucky. The birds were slashing at any bit of exposed flesh, driving everyone into a panic. It was impossible to fight without risking chopping the neck off someone, so I was forced to put my sword away and reduced to trying to shield my face with my hands. My recently-healed ribs protested the acrobatic movements I preformed to try and shield myself from the vicious talons.

If I had still been dumb enough to think so before seeing them up close, one look would have proven that these weren't normal birds.

Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and I speak from bitter experience when I say that they were razor sharp.

"Stymphalian birds!" Katie yelled. "They'll strip everyone to bones if we don't drive them away!"

I simply nodded, ducking another claw and jabbing a wing with a knife I snatched from the ground. A second later, I thought that I heard someone calling "Heroes, to arms!" but with the cacophony, I couldn't be sure that it wasn't just the blood-loss.

Somehow, I ended up beside Luke, who had arrived at the stands and was hacking at the birds with his sword. Once I was outside the throng, I re-summoned my sword to fight back. And we weren't the only ones trying to drive them off.

The Athena campers were calling for shields. The archers from Apollo's cabin brought out their bows and arrows, ready to slay the menaces, but with so many campers mixed in with the birds, it wasn't safe to shoot.

"Too many!" I yelled to Luke. "How do you get rid of them?" I knew Hercules had defeated them, but I couldn't remember the details. Hey, I was kinda busy avoiding death-by-psycho-pigeons, okay? I dare you to do better in the same circumstances with my injuries.

He stabbed at a pigeon with his sword. "Hercules used noise! Brass bells! He scared them away with the most horrible sound he could—"

His eyes got wide. "Ana … Chiron's collection!"

I understood instantly. That shit really was awful. "You think it'll work?"

He pulled me into the nearest (undestroyed) chariot like it was the easiest thing in the world. "To the Big House! It's our only chance!"

Clarisse has just pulled across the finish line, completely unopposed, and seemed to notice for the first time how serious the bird problem was.

When she saw us driving away, she yelled, "You're running? Ana!" She drew her sword and charged for the stands.

I mentally urged our horses into a gallop. The chariot rumbled through the strawberry fields, across the volleyball pit, and lurched to a halt in front of the Big House. Luke and I ran inside, tearing down the hallway to Chiron's apartment.

His boom box was still on his nightstand. So were his favourite CDs. I grabbed the most revolting one I could find, Luke snatched the boom box, and together we ran back outside.

Down at the track, the chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair, while Tantalus chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry.'" I mentally prayed to the gods that one of the birds would carry him off as we pulled up to the finish line. Luke got the boom box ready. Then I started praying the batteries weren't dead instead.

I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favourite, the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. (Even the best of people have their flaws, I guess.)

Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.

The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skyward in a huge dark wave.

"Now!" shouted Luke. "Archers!"

With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Most of them could nock five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon. I let out a sigh of relief, slumping as the adrenaline left me. Then I looked around to survey the damage grimly.

The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks. The kids from Aphrodite's cabin were screaming because their hairdos had been ruined and their clothes destroyed beyond repair. Worst of all, Tantalus seemed fine. As I have long suspected, justice is nothing but a lie.

"Bravo!" Tantalus said. "We have our first winner!"

He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse.

Then he turned and smiled at me. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."

Oh, he was going to _suffer_. _So_ much.


	6. Godly Gifts

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Six**

**Gifts From A God**

The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Luke, Tyson, and I hadn't disturbed them with our bad chariot driving.

This was so completely unfair, I told Tantalus to go chase a doughnut (in significantly saltier language), which didn't help his mood. He sentenced us to kitchen patrol—scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed with lava instead of water, to get that extra-clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Luke and I had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons.

Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Luke and I had to suffer through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse's chariot victory—a full-course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird.

The only good thing about our punishment was that it gave Luke and I lots of time to talk.

"If he's really found it," he murmured after listening to my explanation of my dream again. "And if we could retrieve it—"

"Hold on," I said. "You act like this … whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save the camp. What _is_ it?"

"You know this Ariel," he insisted. "What do you think of when you think of sheep?"

"How scratchy woolly jumpers are," I replied seriously. He rolled his eyes, grinning at my biting humour.

"Seriously, Ariel," he pressed. "What story do you think of?"

I huffed, dried another plate and put it the rack and ran through my mental list of Greek Tales That Will Come Back to Bite Me.

"Jason and the Argonauts," I finally guessed. "You seriously think that Grover's found the Golden Fleece, and that it can save Thalia's tree?"

Luke nodded, a hint of desperation in his bright eyes. "It's our only chance," he insisted. "And Grover's, too." Then he paused before continuing reluctantly. "But still, it's all very convenient. What if it's a trap?"

I bit my lip, but then I shrugged. "Then we spring it," I replied briskly. "Saving the Camp and Grover, _that's_ what's important."

Luke glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in our conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.

"Ana," he muttered to me softly. "We'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the worst of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."

"Sea of Monsters, where is that, by the way?"

He gave me a fondly exasperated look. "We covered that, you know," he pointed out, making me shrug indifferently. Surely he knew better than to expect me to pay attention to geography? He rolled his eyes. "Formerly in the Mediterranean, now in the Bermuda Triangle. Remember now?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'. "But okay, to the Bermuda Triangle then. Good thing I'm a daughter of the Sea God, huh?"

He frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "Tantalus will never let us go," he mused. "We need to figure out how to force him to issue a quest."

"We could just kill him," I suggested wistfully, a dreamy smile on my lips as I thought of the bastard trying (and failing) to fill Chiron's position dying painfully in various ways. Luke cast me an amused glance.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're really scary?" he asked. I flashed him a cheerful smile, nodding.

"You, Grover, the Stolls, most people I speak to, really," I answered. "Anyway, seeing as you seem to have dismissed trying to murder a dead man as a possibility, what's your idea?"

"We tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody," Luke said. "The whole camp will hear. They'll pressure him. He won't be able to refuse."

"Right then," I gave a sharp nod. "We'd better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?"

That night at the campfire, Apollo's cabin led the sing-along. They tried to get everybody's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing half-heartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.

We did all the standard camp numbers: "Down by the Aegean," "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa," "This Land is Minos's Land," etc. The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing colour and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I'd seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into the flames. Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the colour of lint.

Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back toward the Big House. I hoped that his look meant that he was getting as fed up of Tantalus as the rest of us, and then Chiron would come back. And Tantalus would go back to suffering for eternity in the Fields of Punishment.

The lovely thought made a canary grin stretch over my face, and earned me several nervous looks from the people around, who all knew that such expressions on any half-blood (especially me) signalled impending destruction. I tried to tone down my smirk a bit after that.

When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"

He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames. Several snickers emanated from the crowd, including myself, but Tantalus valiantly ignored us. He turned back toward us, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow's schedule."

"Sir," I said, blatantly and happily interrupting him.

Tantalus' eye twitched. Hopefully he was getting as sick of me as I was of him. Maybe then he'd even leave willingly. "Our kitchen girl has something to say?"

Some of the more asshole-ish campers snickered, but I wasn't going to let anybody embarrass me into silence. I stood and looked at Luke. Thank the gods, he stood up with me.

"We have an idea to save the camp," I announced.

Dead silence, but I could tell that I'd gotten everybody's interest, because the campfire flared bright yellow.

"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with chariots—"

"The Golden Fleece," I said, flipping my ponytail back over my shoulder. "We know where it is."

The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop me, I blurted out my dream about Grover and Polyphemus's island. After I finished, Luke stepped in and reminded everybody what the Fleece could do.

"The Fleece can save the camp," he concluded. "I'm certain of it."

"Nonsense," said Tantalus dismissively. "We don't need saving."

Everybody stared at him in an incredulous silence until Tantalus started looking uncomfortable.

"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That's hardly an exact location. You wouldn't even know where to look."

"Yes, I would," I cut him off again, taking sadistic pleasure in the irritation that flashed across his face.

Luke leaned toward me and whispered, "You would?"

I nodded, because my memory had been jogged earlier bout our taxi drive with the Grey Sisters. At the time, the information they'd given me made no sense. But now …

"30, 31, 75, 12," I said.

"Ooo-kay," Tantalus said. "Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers."

"They're sailing coordinates," I cut him. "Latitude and longitude. I learned about it in social studies last year."

"30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west," Malcolm elaborated, looking excitedly. "She's right! That'd be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!"

"Wait just a minute," Tantalus began.

But the campers took up the chant. "We need a quest! We need a quest!"

The flames rose higher.

"It isn't necessary!" Tantalus insisted. But we didn't stop, continuing our chant and stamping our feet.

"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. "You brats want me to assign a quest?"

"YES!"

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."

My heart filled with excitement and I waited eagerly for him to finish.

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose two companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champion is obvious."

Tantalus looked at Luke and I as if he wanted to flay us alive. "The champion should be one who has earned the camp's respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defence of the camp. You shall lead this quest … Clarisse!"

The fire flickered a thousand different colours. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, "CLARISSE! CLARISSE!"

Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. "I accept the quest!"

Part of me was less than pleased, because I believe firmly in the phrase 'if you want something done right, do it yourself.' But Clarisse was one of my best friends. I knew how dedicated she was to the safety of the camp, and I trusted her to find the Fleece. And Clarisse deserved the chance to prove herself.

She cast a quick glance in my direction as she passed me by, heading to the Big House, and I shot her a bright grin and two thumbs up. When I looked over at Tantalus, he was glaring furiously at me, and I knew that he had deliberately chosen Clarisse in the hopes of spiting me. I gave him an overly-sweet smile, making his scowl deepen before he turned away. I smirked, knowing that I had won that round.

"Let me remind everyone— no one leaves this camp without my permission," he announced. "Anyone who tries … well, if they survive the attempt, they will be expelled forever, but it won't come to that. The harpies will be enforcing curfew from now on, and they are always hungry! Good night, my dear campers. Sleep well."

With a wave of Tantalus's hand, the fire was extinguished, and the campers trailed off toward their cabins in the dark.

As I lay in bed, my worry for Grover and my home began intensifying again. I couldn't explain things to Tyson, of course. He wouldn't understand. He knew I was upset. He knew I wanted to go on a trip and Tantalus wouldn't let me.

"You will go anyway?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "It would be hard. Very hard."

"I will help."

"No. I couldn't ask you to do that, baby. Too dangerous."

Tyson looked down at the pieces of metal he was assembling in his lap—springs and gears and tiny wires. Beckendorf had given him some tools and spare parts, and now Tyson spent every night tinkering, though I wasn't sure how his huge hands could handle such delicate little pieces.

"What are you building?" I asked gently.

Tyson didn't answer. Instead he made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat.

"Luke doesn't like Cyclopes. You … don't want me along?"

"Oh, that's not it," I lied, though truthfully, Tyson was too young for me to want him on a dangerous quest. "Luke likes you. Really."

He had tears in the corners of his eye.

I remembered that Grover, like all satyrs, could read human emotions. I wondered if Cyclopes had the same ability.

Tyson folded up his tinkering project in an oilcloth. He lay down on his bunk bed and hugged his bundle like a teddy bear. When he turned toward the wall, I could see the weird scars on his back, like somebody had ploughed over him with a tractor. I wondered for the millionth time how he'd gotten hurt.

"Daddy always cared for m-me," he sniffled. "Now … I think he was mean to have a Cyclops boy. I should not have been born."

"Don't talk that way! Poseidon claimed you, didn't he? So … he must care about you … a lot…."

My voice trailed off as I thought about all those years Tyson had lived on the streets of New York in a cardboard refrigerator box. How could Tyson think that Poseidon had cared for him? What kind of dad let that happen to his kid, even if his kid was a monster? The Ancient Laws only applied to demigods, after all.

"Tyson … camp will be a good home for you. The others will get used to you. I promise."

Tyson sighed. I waited for him to say something. Then I realized he was already asleep.

I lay back on my bed and tried to close my eyes, but I just couldn't. I was afraid I might have another dream about Grover. If the empathy link was real … if something happened to Grover … would I ever wake up?

The full moon shone through my window. The sound of the surf rumbled in the distance. I could smell the warm scent of the strawberry fields, and hear the laughter of the dryads as they chased owls through the forest. But something felt wrong about the night—the sickness of Thalia's tree, spreading across the valley.

Could Clarisse save Half-Blood Hill? I had faith in her ability, but I also knew that multiple people went on quests for a reason. And one of those reasons was that there would be someone to continue on if the leader fell.

I got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. I grabbed a beach blanket and a six-pack of Coke from under my bunk. The Cokes were against the rules. No outside snacks or drinks were allowed, but Luke kept me supplied with a steady stream of soft drinks and chocolate. He knew that it wouldn't be worth the consequences of me losing my temper if I didn't have a regular dose of sugar.

Sneaking out after curfew was against the rules, too. If I got caught I'd either get in big trouble or be eaten by the harpies. But I wanted to see the ocean. I always felt better there. My thoughts were clearer. I left the cabin and headed for the beach.

I spread my blanket near the surf and popped open a Coke. For some reason sugar and caffeine always calmed down my hyperactive brain. I tried to decide what to do to save the camp, but nothing came to me. I wished I could talk to my mother. She would've been able to make me break out of my spiral of despair.

The sky was clear and starry. I was looking up at the constellations that I recognized and naming them silently—Sagittarius, Hercules, Corona Borealis—when somebody said, "Beautiful, aren't they?"

I jackknifed to my feet immediately, yanking out my pin and summoning my sword.

Standing right next to me was a guy in nylon running shorts and a New York City Marathon T-shirt. He was slim and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sly smile. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn't figure out why.

My first thought was that he must've been taking a midnight jog down the beach and strayed inside the camp borders. That wasn't supposed to happen. Regular mortals couldn't enter the valley.

But maybe with the tree's magic weakening he'd managed to slip in. But in the middle of the night?

And there was nothing around except farmland and state preserves. Where would this guy have jogged from?

"May I join you?" he asked. "I haven't sat down in ages."

Now, I know—a strange guy in the middle of the night. Common sense: I was supposed to run away, yell for help, etc. Or at least attack him. But the guy acted so calm about the whole thing that I found it hard to be worried. Besides, whatever he reminded me of was a good thing, that much I knew.

"Uh, sure," I shrugged.

He smiled. "Your hospitality does you credit. Oh, and Coca-Cola! May I?"

He sat at the other end of the blanket, popped a soda and took a drink. "Ah … that hits the spot. Peace and quiet at—"

A cell phone went off in his pocket.

The jogger sighed. He pulled out his phone and my eyes widened in shock, because it glowed with a bluish light. When he extended the antenna, two creatures began writhing around it—green snakes, no bigger than earthworms.

The jogger didn't seem to notice. He checked his LCD display and cursed. "I've got to take this. Just a sec …" Then into the phone: "Hello?"

He listened. The mini-snakes writhed up and down the antenna right next to his ear.

"Yeah," the jogger said. "Listen—I know, but… I don't care if he is chained to a rock with vultures pecking at his liver, if he doesn't have a tracking number, we can't locate his package…. A gift to humankind, great… You know how many of those we deliver—Oh, never mind. Listen, just refer him to Eris in customer service. I gotta go."

He hung up. "Sorry. The overnight express business is just booming. Now, as I was saying—"

"You have snakes on your phone."

"What? Oh, they don't bite. Say hello, George and Martha."

" _Hello, George and Martha,"_ a raspy male voice said inside my head.

" _Don't be sarcastic,"_ said a female voice.

" _Why not?"_ George demanded. _"I do all the_ _ **real**_ _work."_

"Oh, let's not go into that again!" The jogger slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Now, where were we … Ah, yes. Peace and quiet."

He crossed his ankles and stared up at the stars. "Been a long time since I've gotten to relax. Ever since the telegraph—rush, rush, rush. Do you have a favourite constellation, Ana?"

I was still kind of wondering about the little green snakes he'd shoved into his jogging shorts, as well wondering what he was and whether or not he was going to kill me, but I answered anyway. "Uh, I like Hercules."

"Why?"

"Well … because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

The jogger chuckled. "Not because he was strong and handsome and famous and all that?"

"No."

"You're an interesting young lady. And so, what now?"

I knew immediately what he was asking. What did I intend to do about the Fleece?

Before I could answer, Martha the snake's muffled voice came from his pocket: _"I have Demeter on line two."_

"Not now," the jogger said. "Tell her to leave a message."

" _She's not going to like that. The last time you put her off, all the flowers in the floral delivery division wilted."_

"Just tell her I'm in a meeting!" The jogger rolled his eyes. "Sorry again, Ana. You were saying …"

"Um … who are you, exactly?"

"Haven't you guessed by now, a smart girl like you?"

" _Show her!"_ Martha pleaded eagerly. _"I haven't been full-size for months."_

" _Don't listen to her!"_ George said. _"She just wants to show off!"_

The man took out his phone again. "Original form, please."

The phone glowed a brilliant blue. It stretched into a three-foot-long wooden staff with dove wings sprouting out the top. George and Martha, now full-sized green snakes, coiled together around the middle. It was a caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven.

My throat tightened. I realized who the jogger reminded me of with his elfish features, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes….

"You're Luke's father," I said. "Hermes."

The god pursed his lips. He stuck his caduceus in the sand like an umbrella pole. "'Luke's father.' Normally, that's not the first way people introduce me. God of thieves, yes. God of messengers and travellers, if they wish to be kind."

" _God of thieves works,"_ George said.

" _Oh, don't mind George."_ Martha flicked her tongue at me. _"He's just bitter because Hermes likes me best."_

" _He does not!"_

" _Does too!"_

"Behave, you two," Hermes warned, "or I'll turn you back into a cell phone and set you on vibrate! Now, Ana, you still haven't answered my question. What do you intend to do about the quest?"

"I don't have permission to go."

"No, indeed. Will that stop you?"

"I want to go. I have to save Grover."

Hermes smiled. "I knew a boy once … oh, younger than you by far. A mere baby, really."

" _Here we go again,"_ George said. _"Always talking about himself."_

" _Quiet!"_ Martha snapped. _"Do you want to get set on vibrate?"_

Hermes ignored them. "One night, when this boy's mother wasn't watching, he sneaked out of their cave and stole some cattle that belonged to Apollo."

"Did he get blasted to tiny pieces?" I asked morbidly.

"Hmm … no. Actually, everything turned out quite well. To make up for his theft, the boy gave Apollo an instrument he'd invented—a lyre. Apollo was so enchanted with the music that he forgot all about being angry."

"So what's the moral?"

"The moral?" Hermes asked. "Goodness, you act like it's a fable. It's a true story. Does truth have a moral?"

"Well if there's no moral, what's the point of telling it to me, then?"

"Fine," he sighed. "Let me think for a moment. How about this: stealing is not always bad?"

"I don't think Chiron would like that moral. He was really annoyed about having to bail the Stolls and me out of jail last winter after we got caught stealing that BMW in New Jersey."

" _Rats are delicious,"_ suggested George.

" _What does that have to do with the story?"_ Martha demanded.

" _Nothing,"_ George replied. _"But I'm hungry."_

"I've got it," Hermes said, snapping his fingers triumphantly. "Young people don't always do what they're told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they escape punishment. How's that?"

"You're saying I should go anyway," I said, "even without permission." I supposed it would really piss off Tantalus, which was one of my current main goals in life.

Hermes's eyes twinkled. "Martha, may I have the first package, please?"

Martha opened her mouth … and kept opening it until it was as wide as my arm. She belched out a stainless-steel canister—an old-fashioned lunch box thermos with a black plastic top. The sides of the thermos were enamelled with red and yellow Ancient Greek scenes—a hero killing a lion; a hero lifting up Cerberus, the three-headed dog.

"That's Hercules," I said. "But—"

"Never question a gift," Hermes chided. "This is a collector's item from Hercules Busts Heads. The first season."

"Hercules Busts Heads?"

"Great show." Hermes sighed. "Back before Hephaestus-TV was all reality programming. Of course, the thermos would be worth much more if I had the whole lunch box—"

" _Or if it hadn't been in Martha's mouth,"_ George added.

" _I'll get you for that."_ Martha began chasing him around the caduceus.

"Wait a minute," I said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "This is a gift?" That sounded very bad for me. Gods always had ulterior motives.

"One of two," Hermes said. "Go on, pick it up."

I almost dropped it because it was freezing cold on one side and burning hot on the other.

The weird thing was, when I turned the thermos, the side facing the ocean— north—was always the cold side….

"It's a compass!" I exclaimed.

Hermes looked surprised. "Very clever. I never thought of that. But its intended use is a bit more dramatic. Uncap it, and you will release the winds from the four corners of the earth to speed you on your way. Not now! And please, when the time comes, only unscrew the lid a tiny bit. The winds are a bit like me—always restless. Should all four escape at once … ah, but I'm sure you'll be careful."

He clearly didn't know me very well, because I was a lot of things, and 'careful' was _not_ one of them.

"And now my second gift," Hermes continued. "George?"

" _She's touching me,"_ George complained as he and Martha slithered around the pole.

"She's always touching you," Hermes said. "You're intertwined. And if you don't stop that, you'll get knotted again!

The snakes stopped wrestling.

George unhinged his jaw and coughed up a little plastic bottle filled with chewable vitamins.

"You're kidding," I said. "Are those Minotaur-shaped?"

Hermes picked up the bottle and rattled it. "The lemon ones, yes. The grape ones are Furies, I think. Or are they hydras? At any rate, these are potent. Don't take one unless you really, really need it."

"How will I know if I really, really need it?"

"You'll know, believe me. Nine essential vitamins, minerals, amino acids … oh, everything you need to feel yourself again."

He tossed me the bottle.

"Um, thanks," I said. "But Lord Hermes, why are you helping me?"

He gave me a melancholy smile. "Do me a favour, Ana?"

"What's the favour?" I asked suspiciously. He stood.

"Give my love to Luke," he replied.

I bit back my instinctive "can gods love?" and nodded silently, watching him through hooded eyes.

He brushed sand off his pants. "Now, I must be going."

" _You have sixty calls to return,"_ Martha said.

" _And one thousand-thirty-eight e-mails,"_ George added. _"Not counting the offers for online discount ambrosia."_

"And you, Ana," Hermes said, "have a shorter deadline than you realize to complete your quest. Your friends should be coming right about … now."

I heard Luke's voice calling my name from the sand dunes. Tyson, too, was shouting from a little bit farther away.

"I hope I packed well for you," Hermes said. "I do have some experience with travel."

He snapped his fingers and three yellow duffel bags appeared at my feet. "Waterproof, of course. If you ask nicely, your father should be able to help you reach the ship."

I wasn't sure which word was more confusing. 'Father' or "Ship?"

Hermes pointed. Sure enough, a big cruise ship was cutting across Long Island Sound, its' white-and-gold lights glowing against the dark water.

"Wait," I said. "I haven't even agreed to go!"

"I'd make up your mind in the next five minutes, if I were you," Hermes advised. "That's when the harpies will come to eat you. Now, good night, cousin, and dare I say it? May the gods go with you."

He opened his hand and the caduceus flew into it.

" _Good luck,_ " Martha told me.

" _Bring me back a rat,"_ George said.

"I'll do my best," I agreed, still at a loss as to what had just happened.

The caduceus changed into a cell phone and Hermes slipped it into his pocket.

He jogged off down the beach. Twenty paces away, he shimmered and vanished, leaving me alone with a thermos, a bottle of chewable vitamins, and five minutes to make an impossible decision.


	7. Princess Andromeda

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Seven**

**The Princess Andromeda: Main Events: A Painful Death!**

I was staring at the waves with crossed arms and a troubled expression when Luke and Tyson found me.

"What's going on?" Luke asked, giving me a worried once-over. His sword was out and once he established that I wasn't hurt, he scanned the area for threats. "I heard you calling for help!"

"Me, too!" Tyson agreed. "Heard you yell, 'Bad things are attacking!'" Okay, I love Tyson, but surely he knew that I would never phrase anything like that? Maybe he was paraphrasing, not quoting me.

"I didn't call you guys," I told them reassuringly, though distantly. "I'm fine."

"But then who …" Luke noticed the three yellow duffel bags, then the thermos and the bottle of vitamins I was holding. "What—"

"Just listen," I cut him off. "We don't have much time."

I told them about my conversation with Hermes (Luke's expression went tight as soon as I mentioned him). By the time I was finished, I could hear screeching in the distance—patrol harpies picking up our scent.

"Ana," Luke said seriously. "We have to do the quest. Travis and Conner overheard Mark and Sherman talking about how Tantalus wouldn't let Clarisse select any companions. She needs our help."

That made my decision for me. One thing everyone agreed on about me was my loyalty to my friends. I couldn't stand back and let Clarisse be hurt, or Camp be destroyed. I nodded, but Luke didn't notice, and was still trying to convince me.

"Camp is our home, we can't let it be destroyed, and that's what'll happen if we don't go, not to mention Grover! Tyson can stay behind and tell them—"

"I want to go," Tyson said suddenly.

"No!" Luke's voice sounded close to panic. "I mean … Ana, come on. You know that's impossible. Three people per quest, that's the rule. You, me and Clarisse make three. Tyson can't come."

I bit my lip in thought. Somewhere over the past year, I had noticed that the campers had cast in me the role of a leader for them. It was a heavy weight, and I  
often felt lost in it. But I wasn't going to let them down, not if I could help it. Part of that meant making decisions properly, with my head and not my heart. Even if I hated to think things through.

Luke and Tyson both looked at me, waiting for an answer. Meanwhile, the cruise ship was getting farther and farther away.

The thing was, part of me didn't want Tyson along. I loved him, and quests were dangerous. I didn't know how much help he'd be, or how I'd keep him safe. Sure, he was strong, but Tyson was a little kid in Cyclops terms, maybe seven or eight years old, mentally. I could picture him freaking out and starting to cry while we were trying to sneak past a monster or something. He'd get us all killed.

On the other hand, Hermes had evidently intended for Tyson to come too, otherwise he wouldn't have called him over to me. And the sound of the harpies was getting closer….

"We can't leave him," I decided. "Tantalus will punish him for us being gone."

"Ana," Luke said, trying to keep his cool. "we're going to Polyphemus's island! Polyphemus is an S-i-k … a C-y-k…" He flung his hands up in frustration. Luke was dyslexic, too. We could've been there all night while he tried to spell Cyclops. "You know what I mean!"

"Tyson can go," I insisted, "if he wants to." I would talk to Luke about it later, and explain my reasoning for putting him through this, but we just didn't have the time for it right now.

Tyson clapped his hands. "Want to!"

Luke scowled bitterly, but he knew me well enough to know that once I made up my mind, I never changed it. Or maybe he just knew that we didn't have time to argue.

"All right," he huffed. "How do we get to that ship?"

I faltered, doubt flashing over my face and coming out in my tone when I replied after a second's pause. "Hermes said my father would help."

Luke looked as wary as me at the thought of pinning our hopes on a god, but he gestured for me to go ahead.

Reluctantly, I stepped into the waves.

"Ah, my lord," I called out awkwardly, feeling like a fool for both talking to the air, and hoping that my _father_ , of all people (or gods, or whatever), would help me. "We need your help. We need to get to that ship, like, before the harpies eat us, so, uh, a little help would be very appreciated. Please. Sir."

At first, nothing happened. Waves crashed against the shore like normal. The harpies sounded like they were right behind the sand dunes, and I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. Then, about a hundred yards out to sea, three white lines appeared on the surface. They moved fast toward the shore, like claws ripping through the ocean.

As they neared the beach, the surf burst apart and the heads of three white stallions reared out of the waves.

"He actually answered!" I exclaimed in shock.

"Fish ponies!" Tyson declared reverently, at the same time.

He was right. As the creatures pulled themselves onto the sand, I saw that they were only horses in the front; their back halves were silvery fish bodies, with glistening scales and rainbow tail fins.

"Hippocampi!" I realized, remembering my lessons. "They're beautiful."

"No kidding," Luke whistled in agreement. The nearest one whinnied in appreciation and nuzzled me.

Another screech broke me from my awe, and I hastily snatched up a bag, Luke copying me.

"We'll admire them later," I said. "Come on!"

"There!" a voice screeched behind us. "Bad children out of cabins! Snack time for lucky harpies!"

Five of them were fluttering over the top of the dunes—plump little hags with pinched faces and talons and feathery wings too small for their bodies. They weren't very fast, thank the gods, but they were vicious if they caught you.

"Tyson!" I snapped. "Grab a duffel bag!"

He was still staring at the hippocampi with his mouth hanging open, "Tyson!"

"Uh?"

"Come on!"

With Luke's help I got him moving. We gathered the bags and mounted our steeds.

Poseidon must've known Tyson was one of the passengers, because one hippocampus was much larger than the other two—just right for carrying a Cyclops.

"Let's go!" I urged. My hippocampus turned and plunged into the waves. Luke's and Tyson's followed right behind.

The harpies cursed at us, wailing for their snacks to come back, but the hippocampi raced over the water at the speed of Jet Skis. The harpies fell behind, and soon the shore of Camp Half-Blood was nothing but a dark smudge. I wondered if I'd ever see the place again. But right then I had other problems.

The cruise ship was now looming in front of us—our ride toward Florida and the Sea of Monsters.

Riding the hippocampus was even easier than riding a pegasus. We zipped along with the wind in our faces, speeding through the waves so smooth and steady I hardly needed to hold on at all.

As we got closer to the cruise ship, I realized just how huge it was. I felt as though I were looking up at a building in Manhattan. The white hull was at least ten stories tall, topped with another dozen levels of decks with brightly lit balconies and portholes. The ship's name was painted just above the bow line in black letters, lit with a spotlight. It took me a few seconds to decipher it:

PRINCESS ANDROMEDA

Attached to the bow was a huge masthead—a three-story-tall woman wearing a white Greek chiton, sculpted to look as if she were chained to the front of the ship. She was young and beautiful, with flowing black hair, but her expression was one of absolute terror. Why anybody would want a screaming princess on the front of their vacation ship, I had no idea.

I shivered uncomfortably as I remembered the myth about Andromeda and how she had been chained to a rock by her own parents as a sacrifice to a sea monster. The monster had been sent to terrorize their kingdom as a punishment from one of the gods for something. Perseus, a son of Zeus, had saved her just in time and turned the sea monster to stone using the head of Medusa. Perseus had also been both the half-brother and grandfather of Heracles, which I always thought was really weird. Seriously, Zeus had no boundaries. It was kind of ridiculous, really.

"How do we get aboard?" Luke shouted over the noise of the waves, but the hippocampi seemed to know what we needed. They skimmed along the starboard side of the ship, riding easily through its' huge wake, and pulled up next to a service ladder riveted to the side of the hull.

"You first," I told Luke.

He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed the bottom rung. Once he'd hoisted himself onto the ladder, his hippocampus whinnied a farewell and dove underwater.

Luke began to climb. I let him get a few rungs up, then I began to follow him. Compared to the climbing wall at camp, this was easier than leaning down to touch my toes (which I could also do. My body is practically made of elastic, instead of bones.)

After that, it was just Tyson in the water. His hippocampus was treating him to 360° aerials and backward ollies, and Tyson was laughing so hysterically, the sound echoed up the side of the ship.

"Tyson, shhh!" I ordered, glancing back down at him sternly. "Come on, baby! We gotta hurry."

"Can't we take Rainbow?" he asked, his smile fading.

I stared at him for a second. "Rainbow?"

The hippocampus whinnied as if he liked his new name.

"Um, we have to go," I said carefully, restraining the urge to slam my head against the ship wall. It took a lot of effort to be patient with young children, and if I had been half-as-bad as Tyson when I was a kid, then I owed a list of people apologies. "Rainbow … well, he can't climb ladders."

Tyson sniffled. He buried his face in the hippocampus's mane. "I will miss you, Rainbow!"

The hippocampus made a neighing sound I could've sworn was crying.

"Maybe we'll see him again sometime," I suggested, desperate to get him up the ladder and onto the ship. Luke was already clambering over the rails.

"Oh, please!" Tyson said, perking up immediately. "Tomorrow!"

I didn't make any promises, but I finally convinced Tyson to say his farewells and grab hold of the ladder. With a final sad whinny, Rainbow the hippocampus did a back-flip and dove into the sea.

The ladder led to a maintenance deck stacked with yellow lifeboats. There was a set of locked double doors, which Luke used his own abilities to unlock. It was seriously cool to watch him simply touch the handle, close his eyes for a second, and then here the lock click.

"Damn, that's cool," I muttered to him.

He gave me a slightly melancholy smile. "Thalia used to say the same thing," he told me wistfully. I bit my lip and didn't say anything else. I wondered if Thalia's tree dying made it feel like he was losing her for the second time. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was.

I had expected that we'd need to sneak around, being stowaways and all, but after checking a few corridors and peering over a balcony into a huge central promenade lined with closed shops, I began to realize there was nobody to hide _from_. I mean, sure it was the middle of the night, but we walked half the length of the boat and met no one. We passed forty or fifty cabin doors and heard no sound behind any of them. It sent shivers up my spine, and the feel of my pin in my hair was incredibly reassuring.

"It's a ghost ship," I murmured.

"No," Tyson said, fiddling with the strap of his duffel bag nervously. "Bad smell."

Luke frowned. "I don't smell anything."

"Cyclopes are like satyrs," I explained. "They can smell monsters. Isn't that right, Tyson?"

He nodded nervously.

"Okay," Luke said, tapping his sheathed sword tensely. "So what exactly do you smell?"

"Something bad," Tyson answered.

"Wow," Luke mumbled. "That was helpful. Oof!"

The breath left him in a gush as I jammed my elbow firmly into his pelvis. We exchanged sharp looks, before Luke scowled and looked away. I smiled triumphantly and continued to creep along, pulling my pin out, though I didn't summon my sword just yet. The boys followed me, Tyson in the middle and Luke at the back. A good formation, the two fighters in the lead and back positions, while the most vulnerable was shielded by us.

We came outside on the swimming pool level. There were rows of empty deck chairs and a bar closed off with a chain curtain. The water in the pool glowed eerily, sloshing back and forth from the motion of the ship.

Above us fore and aft were more levels—a climbing wall, a putt-putt golf course, a revolving restaurant, but no sign of life.

And yet … I sensed something familiar. Something dangerous. I had the feeling that if I weren't so tired and burned out on adrenaline from our long night, I might be able to put a name to what was wrong. The fact that I couldn't pissed me off more than I wanted to admit.

"We need a hiding place," I decided. "Somewhere safe to sleep."

"Sleep sounds good," Luke agreed wearily.

We explored a few more corridors until we found an empty suite on the ninth level. The door was open, which struck me as weird. There was a basket of chocolate goodies on the table, an iced-down bottle of sparkling cider on the nightstand, and a mint on the pillow with a handwritten note that said: _Enjoy your cruise_! It definitely felt like a trap, but I was so exhausted that I decided as long as I got a few hours' rest, I didn't give a damn if we were attacked or not.

We opened our duffel bags for the first time and found that Hermes really had thought of everything—extra clothes, toiletries, camp rations, a Ziploc bag full of cash, a leather pouch full of golden drachmas. He'd even managed to pack Tyson's oilcloth with his tools and metal bits, and Luke's flying shoes, which made them both feel a lot better.

"I'll be next door," Luke told me. "You guys don't drink or eat anything."

"You think this place is enchanted?" I asked seriously.

He frowned. "I don't know. Something isn't right. Just … be careful."

We locked our doors.

Tyson crashed on the couch. He tinkered for a few minutes on his metalworking project—which he still wouldn't show me—but soon enough he was yawning. He wrapped up his oilcloth and passed out.

I lay on the bed and stared out the porthole. I thought I heard voices out in the hallway, like whispering, despite having seen no one all over the ship. The voices kept me awake. They reminded me of my trip to the Underworld—the way the spirits of the dead sounded as they drifted past. It was _not_ a fond memory.

Finally, my weariness got the best of me. I fell asleep … and then I had my worst dream yet.

I was standing in a cavern at the edge of an enormous pit. I knew the place far too well for my comfort. The entrance to Tartarus. And I recognized the cold laugh that echoed from the darkness below.

' _If it isn't the young heroine.'_ The voice was like a knife blade scraping across stone. _'On her way to another great victory.'_

I wanted to shout at Kronos to leave me alone. I wanted to draw my sword and attack him. But I couldn't move. And even if I could, how could I kill something that had already been destroyed—chopped to pieces and cast into eternal darkness?

' _Don't let me stop you,'_ the titan said mockingly. _'Perhaps this time, when you fail, you'll wonder if it's worthwhile slaving for the gods. How exactly has your father shown his appreciation lately?'_

His laughter filled the cavern, and suddenly the scene changed.

It was a different cave—Grover's bedroom prison in the Cyclops's lair.

Grover was sitting at the loom in his soiled wedding dress, madly unravelling the threads of the unfinished bridal train.

"Honeypie!" the monster shouted from behind the boulder.

Grover yelped and began weaving the threads back together.

The room shook as the boulder was pushed aside. Looming in the doorway was a Cyclops so huge he made Tyson look about three feet tall. He had jagged yellow teeth and gnarled hands as big as my whole body. He wore a faded purple T-shirt that said WORLD SHEEP EXPO 2001. He must've been at least fifteen feet tall, but the most startling thing was his enormous milky eye, scarred and webbed with cataracts. If he wasn't completely blind, he had to be pretty darn close.

Made sense, I guess. I think it was Odysseus who stabbed him in the eye, on his way back from Troy. Or was on the way to? Not that it mattered, anyway. "What are you doing?" the monster demanded.

"Nothing!" Grover said in his falsetto voice. I winced at the sound. "Just weaving my bridal train, as you can see."

The Cyclops stuck one hand into the room and groped around until he found the loom. He pawed at the cloth. "It hasn't gotten any longer!"

"Oh, um, yes it has, dearest. See? I've added at least an inch."

"Too many delays!" the monster bellowed. Then he sniffed the air. "You smell good! Like goats!"

"Oh." Grover forced a weak giggle. My heart broke at my poor friend's fear, and a fierce hatred sprang into my heart for his tormentor. I _would_ kill Polyphemus for this, I vowed silently as I watched.

"Do you like it? It's Eau de Chevre. I wore it just for you."

"Mmmm!" The Cyclops bared his pointed teeth. "Good enough to eat!"

"Oh, you're such a flirt!"

"No more delays!"

"But dear, I'm not done!"

"Tomorrow!"

"No, no. Ten more days."

"Five!"

"Oh, well, seven then. If you insist."

"Seven! That is less than five, right?"

"Certainly. Oh yes."

The monster grumbled, still not happy with his deal, but he left Grover to his weaving and rolled the boulder back into place.

Grover closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Hurry, Ana," he muttered. "Please, please, please!"

I woke to a ship's whistle and a voice on the intercom— some guy with an Australian accent who sounded way too happy for the morning.

"Good morning, passengers! We'll be at sea all day today. Excellent weather for the poolside mambo party! Don't forget million-dollar bingo in the Kraken Lounge at one o'clock, and for our special guests, disembowelling practice on the Promenade!"

I shot upright in my bed. " _What_ did he say?"

Tyson groaned, still half asleep. He was lying face-down on the couch, his feet so far over the edge they were in the bathroom. "The happy man said … bowling practice?"

There was an urgent knock on the suite's interior door and Luke stuck his head in—his blond hair in a rat's nest and his blue eyes wide with panic. " _Disembowelling_ practice?"

Once we were all dressed, we ventured out into the ship and were surprised to see other people. A dozen senior citizens were heading to breakfast. A dad was taking his kids to the pool for a morning swim. Crew members in crisp white uniforms strolled the deck, tipping their hats to the passengers.

Nobody asked who we were. Nobody paid us much attention. But there was something wrong.

As the family of swimmers passed us, the dad told his kids: "We are on a cruise. We are having fun."

"Yes," his three kids said in unison, their expressions blank. "We are having a blast. We will swim in the pool."

They wandered off.

Luke and I exchanged disturbed expressions, both of us grasping our weapons tightly for comfort.

"Good morning," a crew member told us, his eyes glazed. "We are all enjoying ourselves aboard the Princess Andromeda. Have a nice day." He drifted away.

"Ana, something is seriously wrong," Luke whispered to me under his breath. "They're all in some kind of trance."

Then we passed a cafeteria and saw our first monster. It was a hellhound—a black mastiff with its front paws up on the buffet line and its muzzle buried in the scrambled eggs. It must've been young, because it was small compared to most—no bigger than a grizzly bear. Still, my blood turned cold. I'd almost gotten killed by one of those before.

The weird thing was: a middle-aged couple was standing in the buffet line right behind the devil dog, patiently waiting their turn for the eggs. They didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Even with the Mist, they should have seen a dog in front of them, and that wasn't normal.

"Not hungry anymore," Tyson murmured.

"Me either," Luke and I both agreed, backing out of the cafeteria. We began to head away from it, when a reptilian voice came from down the corridor, "Ssssix more joined yesssterday."

I gestured frantically toward the nearest hiding place—the women's room—and all three of us ducked inside.

Something—or more like two somethings—slithered past the bathroom door, making sounds like sandpaper against the carpet.

"Yesss," a second reptilian voice said, making me shiver. "He drawssss them. Ssssoon we will be sssstrong."

The things slithered into the cafeteria with a cold hissing that might have been snake laughter.

Luke looked at me. "We have to get out of here."

"Good idea, genius," I snapped, tension making me bitchy. "I hadn't figured that out. Really, Casanova, you're a genius."

He shot me an irritated look, but another voice kept him from replying.

I recognized this voice, and it was one that chilled me worse than any monster's.

"—only a matter of time. Don't push me, Agrius!"

It was Annabeth, beyond a doubt. I could never forget her voice. My palm itched in phantom pain. Luke twitched, and I grabbed him and shoved a hand over his mouth to keep him from doing something stupid. He had gone from being hurt to being furious with Annabeth's betrayal, and I didn't want him to jump out and attack her. Not yet, at any rate.

"I'm not pushing you!" a guy growled. His voice was deeper and even angrier than Annabeth's. "I'm just saying, if this gamble doesn't pay off—"

"It'll pay off," she snapped. "They'll take the bait. Now, come, we've got to get to the admiralty suite and check on the casket."

Their voices receded down the corridor, and I slowly released Luke, feeling the familiar sensation of adrenaline flooding me.

Tyson whimpered. "Leave now?"

Luke and I exchanged looks and came to a silent agreement.

"We can't," I told Tyson firmly.

"We have to find out what Annabeth is up to," Luke agreed. "And if possible, we're going to beat her and Ethan up, bind them in chains, and drag them both to Mount Olympus."


	8. Tyson Fights A Bear

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Eight**

**Tyson Fights A Bear Thing**

Luke wanted to go alone since he was the sneakiest of us, but I refused, saying that it was too dangerous. Either we all went together, or nobody went.

"Nobody!" Tyson voted. "Please?"

But in the end he came along, nervously chewing on his huge fingernails. He stopped after I gave him a stern look, wary that the loud crunching noises he was making would draw unwanted attention.

We stopped at our cabin long enough to gather our stuff. We figured whatever happened, we would not be staying another night aboard the zombie cruise ship, even if they did have an all-you-can eat buffet.

I made sure my pin was in my hair and the vitamins and thermos from Hermes were at the top of my bag. I didn't want Tyson to carry everything, but he insisted, and Luke pointed out that it would be easier to fight with the straps of the bag constricting my movements.

Besides, Tyson could carry three full duffel bags over his shoulder as easily as I could carry a single backpack alone.

We sneaked through the corridors, following the ship's YOU ARE HERE signs toward the admiralty suite. We hid whenever someone passed by, but most of the people we saw were just glassy-eyed zombie passengers.

It was seriously creepy, seeing people look right through us, like we were invisible, and at the same time state these programmed responses mechanically. So. Creepy.

As we came up the stairs to deck thirteen, where the admiralty suite was supposed to be, Luke hissed, "Hide!" and roughly dragged us into a supply closet.

A second later, I heard a couple of guys coming down the hall.

"You see that Aethiopian drakon in the cargo hold?" one of them said.

The other laughed. "Yeah, it's awesome."

Luke squeezed my arm hard. I frowned, getting a vague feeling of recognition towards the first guy's voice.

"I hear they got two more coming," the second voice said. "They keep arriving at this rate, oh, man—no contest!"

The voices faded down the corridor.

"That was Alabaster Torrington!" Luke exclaimed when they were gone, looking stricken. "He was in my Cabin, but he didn't come back this summer."

I sort of recalled Alabaster from the summer before. He was one of those undetermined campers who got stuck in the Hermes cabin because his Olympian dad or mom never claimed him. Kind of standoffish.

"I guess we know why, now," I replied slowly, frowning deeply. "But what's another half-blood doing here?"

"I don't know," Luke said, shaking his head. "It makes no sense."

We kept going down the corridor. I didn't need maps anymore to know I was getting close to Annabeth and/or Ethan. I sensed something cold and unpleasant—the presence of evil.

"Ana, wait." Luke stopped suddenly. "Look at this."

He stood in front of a glass wall looking down into the multi-story canyon that ran through the middle of the ship. At the bottom was the Promenade—a mall full of shops— but that's not what had caught Luke's attention.

A group of monsters had assembled in front of the candy store: a dozen Laistrygonian giants like the ones who'd attacked me with dodge balls, two hellhounds, and a few even stranger creatures—humanoid females with twin serpent tails instead of legs. I recognized them a second before Luke said their names, his voice grim.

"Scythian Dracaenae," he whispered. "Dragon women."

The monsters made a semicircle around a young guy in Greek armour who was hacking on a straw dummy. My stomach churned and I leaned away slightly when I realized the dummy was wearing an orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. As we watched, the guy in armour stabbed the dummy through its belly and ripped upward. Straw flew everywhere. The monsters cheered and howled. I shuddered in horror.

Luke stepped away from the window. Both of our faces were ashen, I could tell from the window's reflection.

"Come on," I urged him, trying to sound braver than I felt. "The sooner we find Annabeth and Ethan the better."

At the end of the hallway were double oak doors that looked like they must lead somewhere important. When we were thirty feet away, Tyson stopped. "Voices inside."

"You can hear that far?" I asked.

Tyson closed his eye like he was concentrating hard. Then his voice changed, becoming a disturbing approximation of Ethan's. "—the prophecy ourselves. The fools won't know which way to turn."

Before I could react, Tyson's voice changed again, becoming deeper and gruffer, like the other guy we'd heard talking to Annabeth outside the cafeteria. "You really think the old horseman is gone for good?"

Tyson laughed Annabeth's laugh, and spoke again in Ethan's voice. "They can't trust him. Not with the skeletons in his closet. The poisoning of the tree was the final straw."

Luke shivered. "Stop that, Tyson! How are you doing that? It's freaky."

Tyson opened his eye, looking puzzled. "Just listening," he claimed. I supposed that it was just a Cyclopes thing.

"Keep going," I told him firmly. This was useful. "What else are they saying?"

Tyson closed his eye again.

He hissed in the gruff man's voice: "Quiet!" Then Annabeth's voice, whispering: "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Tyson said in the gruff voice. "Right outside."

Too late, I realized what was happening.

I just had time to cry, "Run!" when the doors of the stateroom burst open and there was Ethan, flanked by two hairy giants armed with javelins, their bronze tips aimed right at our chests.

"Well," Ethan said with a crooked smile. "If it isn't my old friend, Luke, and his girlfriend. Come right in." Given the weapons pointed at our hearts, we couldn't exactly refuse the 'kind offer'.

The stateroom was beautiful, and it was horrible.

The beautiful part: Huge windows curved along the back wall, looking out over the stern of the ship. Green sea and blue sky stretched all the way to the horizon. A Persian rug covered the floor. Two plush sofas occupied the middle of the room, with a canopied bed in one corner and a mahogany dining table in the other. The table was loaded with food—pizza boxes, bottles of soda, and a stack of roast beef sandwiches on a silver platter.

If it were just that, minus the monsters and terrifying parts, I would be tempted to like the room.

But the awful part completely overshadowed any nice parts. On a velvet dais at the back of the room lay a ten-foot-long golden casket, with an unnatural coldness radiating from it.

A sarcophagus, engraved with Ancient Greek scenes of cities in flames and heroes dying grisly deaths. Despite the sunlight streaming through the windows, the casket made the whole room feel cold.

"Well," Annabeth said, gesturing around herself proudly and grinning broadly at Luke. "A little nicer than Cabin Eleven, huh Luke?"

She and Ethan had both changed since the last summer. Instead of shorts and a T-shirt, Ethan wore a button-down shirt, khaki pants, and leather loafers. His dark hair, which used to cover his eyes, was now clipped short. He looked like he was showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

Annabeth was dressed in a long pair of cargo pants, a red blouse made of silk, and a pair of black ballet flats. Her blonde curls were tied back in a plait, and the knife Luke had given her when they first met hung from her hip. I saw Luke cast it a bitter glare, his expression the darkest I'd ever seen it, save for when I had first told him and Chiron of Annabeth and Ethan's betrayal.

"Sit," Annabeth told us with a smug smile. She waved her hand and three dining chairs scooted themselves into the centre of the room.

None of us sat.

Her large friends were still pointing their javelins at us. They looked like twins, but they weren't human. They stood about eight feet tall, for one thing, and wore only blue jeans, probably because their enormous chests were already shag-carpeted with thick brown fur. They had claws for fingernails, feet like paws. Their noses were snoutlike, and their teeth were all pointed canines.

"Where are our manners?" Ethan said smoothly. "These are our assistants, Agrius and Oreius. Perhaps you've heard of them."

I said nothing. Despite the javelins pointed at me, it wasn't the bear twins who scared me.

I'd contemplated what would happen when I inevitably met Annabeth and Ethan again many times since he'd tried to kill me last summer. I wanted to kill them both, so badly for everything that they had done. Everything that they had almost done. But now that we were face-to-face, I had to clench my hands into to stop them from shaking.

"You don't know Agrius and Oreius's story?" Annabeth asked. "I'm not surprised, wisdom has never been your strong point."

"Clearly it isn't yours either," I interjected coolly, in a typical display of my inability to keep my mouth shut. "Given the company that you keep nowadays."

She glared coldly at me, but Ethan's grip restrained her from attacking. She continued telling the story of the Bear Twins. "Their mother … well, it's sad, really. Aphrodite ordered the young woman to fall in love. She refused and ran to Artemis for help.

Artemis let her become one of her maiden huntresses, but Aphrodite got her revenge. She bewitched the young woman into falling in love with a bear. When Artemis found out, she abandoned the girl in disgust.

Typical of the gods, wouldn't you say? They fight with one another and the poor humans get caught in the middle. The girl's twin sons here, Agrius and Oreius, have no love for Olympus."

"They like half-bloods well enough, though," Ethan added with a sly smile.

"For lunch," Agrius growled. His gruff voice was the one I'd heard talking with Annabeth earlier.

"Hehe! Hehe!" His brother Oreius laughed, licking his fur-lined lips. He kept laughing like he was having an asthmatic fit until The Traitors and Agrius all stared at him.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Agrius growled. "Go punish yourself!"

Oreius whimpered. He trudged over to the corner of the room, slumped onto a stool, and banged his forehead against the dining table, making the silver plates rattle. I felt kinda bad for him, actually. He seemed like he needed a hug.

Annabeth and Ethan both acted like this was perfectly normal behaviour.

"So, I hope that you enjoyed your last year of life, Ana," Ethan smirked. "What have you been doing with it?"

"Not much," I replied coldly. "But, I know what you've been doing. You poisoned Thalia's tree."

For a second, I thought that I saw regret flashed over Annabeth's face. But it disappeared too quickly for me to be sure.

"Right to the point, eh?" Ethan sighed. "Okay, sure I poisoned the tree. So what?"

"How could you, Annabeth?" Luke sounded so furious I thought that he might run straight forward and attack her. "Thalia sacrificed herself to save your life! Our lives! How could you just poison her tree and dishonour her—"

"I didn't dishonour her!" Annabeth snapped, standing and glaring at him. "The gods dishonoured her, Luke! If Thalia were alive, she'd be on my side."

"You're wrong!"

"If you knew what was coming, you'd understand—"

"I understand you want to destroy the camp!" he yelled. "You're a traitor!"

Annabeth shook her head. "The gods have _blinded_ you. Can't you imagine a world without them, Luke? What good is that ancient history you study? Three thousand years of baggage! The West is rotten to the core. It has to be destroyed. Join me! We can start the world anew. We could use your experience, Luke."

"Because you have none of your own!"

Her eyes narrowed. Annabeth had always resented not being allowed on quests, and only once tried going back to her father. It hadn't ended well.

"I know you, Luke," she insisted. "You deserve better than tagging along on some hopeless quest to save the camp. Half-Blood Hill will be overrun by monsters within the month. The heroes who survive will have no choice but to join us or be hunted to extinction. You really want to be on a losing team … with company like this?" She pointed at Tyson.

"Hey!" I snapped, temper flaring as I stepped in front my brother defensively.

"Traveling with a Cyclops," she spat. "Talk about dishonouring Thalia's memory! You of all people—"

"Shut up!" he shouted.

"Leave him alone," I ordered. "And leave Tyson out of this."

Ethan laughed scornfully. "Oh, yeah, we heard. Your father claimed him."

I must have looked surprised, because he smiled smugly. "Yes, Ana, we know all about that. And about your plan to find the Fleece. What were those coordinates, again … 30, 31, 75, 12? You see, we still have friends at camp who keep the two of us posted."

"Spies, you mean."

He shrugged. "How many insults from your father can you stand, Ana? You think he's grateful to you? You think Poseidon cares for you any more than he cares for this monster?"

Tyson clenched his fists and made a rumbling sound down in his throat.

"You think I give a damn about Poseidon's opinion?" I snapped back. The only parents that had ever mattered to me were my mother and Chiron. Not Poseidon, who had called me a 'wrongdoing' the only time we met.

Annabeth chuckled bitterly, turning away from her and Luke's staring contest. "The gods are using you, Ana. Do you have any idea what's in store for you if you reach your sixteenth birthday? Has Chiron even told you the prophecy?"

I hated that he knew just how to throw me off balance.

Sixteenth birthday?

I mean, I knew Chiron had received a prophecy from the Oracle about the possible destruction of the world many years ago. I knew that part of it was probably about me. But, if I reached my sixteenth birthday? I didn't like the sound of that.

"I know what I need to know," I managed. "Like, who my enemies are."

"Then you're a fool."

Tyson smashed the nearest dining chair to splinters. "Ana is not a fool!"

Before I could stop him, he charged Ethan. His fists came down toward Ethan's head—a double overhead blow that would've knocked a hole in titanium—but the bear twins intercepted.

They each caught one of Tyson's arms and stopped him cold. They pushed him back and Tyson stumbled. He fell to the carpet so hard the deck shook.

"Too bad, Cyclops," Annabeth said, voice filled with spite. "Looks like my grizzly friends together are more than a match for your strength. Maybe I should let the two of them—"

"What's in the sarcophagus?" I demanded, frantic to distract her.

Both of their expressions grew maniacal, and if I had held any illusions as to them being insane before, that would have dealt with it swiftly.

"He is re-forming," Ethan declared. "Little by little, we're calling his life force out of the pit. With every recruit who pledges our cause, another small piece appears—"  
You're insane," Luke said, as disgusted as I was at the very thought.

"Join us and you'll be rewarded. We have powerful friends, sponsors rich enough to buy this cruise ship and much more. Ana, you can have power, fame—whatever you want. You too, Luke, anything your heart desires!"

"Go to Tartarus," he spat in reply. I simply glared, hoping that erased any illusions of my being tempted by his suggestion.

Ethan sighed. "A shame." Annabeth looked away, hiding her face from Luke's betrayed, bitter glare.

He picked up something that looked like a TV remote and pressed a red button. Within seconds the door of the stateroom opened and two uniformed crew members came in, armed with nightsticks. They had the same glassy-eyed look as the other mortals I'd seen, but I had a feeling this wouldn't make them any less dangerous in a fight.

"Ah, good, security," Luke said, "I'm afraid we have some stowaways."

"Yes, sir," they said dreamily.

Ethan turned to Oreius. "It's time to feed the Aethiopian drakon. Take these fools below and show them how it's done."

Oreius grinned stupidly. "Hehe! Hehe!"

"Let me go, too," Agrius grumbled. "My brother is worthless. That Cyclops—"

"Is no threat," Annabeth said. She glanced back at the golden casket, frowning as if something were troubling her. "Agrius, you're staying here. We have important matters to discuss."

"But—"

"Oreius, don't fail me. Stay in the hold to make sure the drakon is properly fed."

Oreius prodded us with his javelin and herded us out of the stateroom, followed by the two human security guards.

As I walked down the corridor with Oreius's javelin poking me in the back, I thought about what Annbeth had said—that the bear twins together were a match for Tyson's strength. But maybe separately …

We exited the corridor amidships and walked across an open deck lined with lifeboats. I knew the ship well enough to realize this would be our last look at sunlight. Once we got to the other side, we'd take the elevator down into the hold, and that would be it.

I looked at Tyson and said, "Now."

Thank the gods, he understood. He turned and smacked Oreius thirty feet backward into the swimming pool, right into the middle of the zombie tourist family.

"Ah!" the kids yelled in unison. "We are not having a blast in the pool!"

One of the security guards drew his nightstick, but Luke knocked the wind out of him with a well-placed kick. The other guard ran for the nearest alarm box.

"Stop him!" Luke yelled, but it was too late.

Just before I banged him over the head with a deck chair, he hit the alarm.

Red lights flashed. Sirens wailed.

"Lifeboat!" I cried.

We ran for the nearest one.

By the time we got the cover off, monsters and more security men were swarming the deck, pushing aside tourists and waiters with trays of tropical drinks. A guy in Greek armour drew his sword and charged, but slipped in a puddle of piña colada. Laistrygonian archers assembled on the deck above us, notching arrows in their enormous bows.

"How do you launch this thing?" screamed Luke.

A hellhound leaped at me, but Tyson slammed it aside with a fire extinguisher.

"Get in!" I yelled. I summoned Anaklusmos and slashed the first volley of arrows out of the air. Any second now we would be overwhelmed.

The lifeboat was hanging over the side of the ship, high above the water. Luke and Tyson were having no luck with the release pulley.

I jumped in beside them.

"Hold on!" I yelled, and I cut the ropes.

A shower of arrows whistled over our heads as we free-fell toward the ocean.


	9. Donut Dangers

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Nine**

**The Dangers of Donuts (And I don't mean to your waistline)**

"Thermos!" I shrieked as we hurtled toward the water.

"What?" Luke must've thought that I had lost my mind. He was holding on to the boat straps for dear life, his hair flying all around and making him look like an evil scientist or something.

But, thank the gods, Tyson understood. He managed to open my duffel bag and take out Hermes's magical thermos without losing his grip on it or the boat.

Arrows and javelins whistled past us.

I grabbed the thermos and hoped I was doing the right thing. "Hang on!"

"I am hanging on!" Luke yelled back.

"Tighter!"

I hooked my feet under the boat's inflatable bench, and as Tyson grabbed Luke and I by the backs of our shirts, I gave the thermos cap a quarter turn.

Instantly, a white sheet of wind jetted out of the thermos and propelled us sideways, turning our downward plummet into a forty-five-degree crash landing.

The wind seemed to laugh as it shot from the thermos, like it was glad to be free. As we hit the ocean, we bumped once, twice, skipping like a stone, then we were whizzing along like a speed boat, salt spray in our faces and nothing but sea ahead.

I heard a wail of outrage from the ship behind us, but we were already out of weapon range.

The _Princess Andromeda_ faded to the size of a white toy boat in the distance, and then it was gone, out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.

As we raced over the sea, Luke and I tried to send an Iris-message to Chiron. We figured it was important we let somebody know what Annabeth and Ethan were doing, and we didn't know who else to trust.

The wind from the thermos stirred up a nice sea spray that made a rainbow in the sunlight—perfect for an Iris-message—but our connection was still poor. When Luke threw a gold drachma into the mist and prayed for the rainbow goddess to show us Chiron, his face appeared all right, but there was some kind of weird strobe light flashing in the background and rock music blaring, like he was at a dance club. Impossible of course. I mean, it's _Chiron_. He literally has two left feet.

We told him about sneaking away from camp, and the Traitors and the _Princess Andromeda_ and the golden box for Kronos' 'remains', but between the noise on his end and the rushing wind and water on our end, I'm not sure how much he managed to hear.

"Ana," Chiron shouted, "you have to watch out for—"

His voice was drowned out by loud shouting behind him—a bunch of voices whooping it up like Comanche warriors.

"What?" I called back.

"Curse my relatives!" Chiron ducked as a plate flew over his head and shattered somewhere out of sight. "Luke, you shouldn't have let Ana leave camp! But if you do get the Fleece—"  
"Yeah, baby!" somebody behind Chiron yelled. "Woo-hoooooo!"

The music got cranked up, subwoofers so loud it made our boat vibrate.

"—Miami," Chiron was yelling. "I'll try to keep watch—"

Our misty screen smashed apart like someone on the other side had thrown a bottle at it, and Chiron was gone.

An hour later we spotted land—a long stretch of beach lined with high-rise hotels. The water became crowded with fishing boats and tankers. A coast guard cruiser passed on our starboard side, then turned like it wanted a second look. I guess it isn't every day that they see a yellow lifeboat with no engine going a hundred knots an hour, manned by three kids.

Ah, the lives of mortals. I wish that I was a mortal, their lives rock.

"That's Virginia Beach!" Luke exclaimed as we approached the shoreline. "How in Hermes' name did the Princess Andromeda travel so far overnight? That's like—"

"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," I said.

He stared at me in shock. "How did you _know_ that?"

"I—I'm not sure."

Luke frowned for a moment. "Ariel, what's our position?"

"36 degrees, 44 minutes north, 76 degrees, 2 minutes west," I said immediately. Then I shook my head. "Whoa. How did I know that?"

"Because of your dad," Luke guessed. "Some of my siblings can do something similar, on land. It'll be damn handy in finding the island, at least."

Before I could say anything about my opinion on being used a living GPS, Tyson tapped my shoulder. "Other boat is coming."

I looked over my shoulder, tensing up. The coast guard vessel was definitely on our tail now. Its' lights were flashing and it was gaining speed.

"We can't let them catch us," I said. "They'll ask too many questions."

"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Luke ordered. "I know a place where we can lay low for a while."

I didn't ask what he meant, or how he knew the area so well. I risked loosening the thermos cap a little more, and a fresh burst of wind sent us rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coast guard boat fell farther and farther behind. We didn't slow down until the shores of the bay narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered the mouth of a river.

I could feel the change from salt water to fresh water. Suddenly I was tired and frazzled, like I was coming down off a sugar high. I didn't know where I was anymore, or which way to steer the boat. It was a good thing Luke was directing me, otherwise, we'd have gotten _so_ lost.

"There," he pointed. "It's just a little past that sandbar."

We veered into a swampy area choked with marsh grass. I beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress.

Vine-covered trees loomed above us. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river. Basically, I didn't like it.

"Come on," Luke swung himself out of the boat. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" I asked grumpily. I wished that we'd had a chance to shower before having to run for our lives. That's the worst thing about quests. No being clean, which I adore.

"Just follow me." He grabbed a duffel bag. I could see a certain look had come into his eyes, and I knew that this had something to do with Thalia. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."

After burying the lifeboat with branches, Tyson and I followed Luke along the shore, our feet sinking in red mud. A spider crawled past my shoe and disappeared into the grass, but at least it wasn't a snake. Small mercies, I wasn't very fond of bugs, either.

"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet line on his arm.

After another few minutes, Luke stopped and said, "Here."

All I saw was a patch of brambles. Then Luke moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and I realized I was looking into a camouflaged shelter.

The inside was big enough for three, even with Tyson being the third. The walls were woven from plant material, like a Native American hut, but they looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want for a campout—sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too— bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty, like it had been vacant for a long time.

"A half-blood hideout." I looked at Luke in awe. "You made this place?"

"Thalia and I," he replied quietly, pained look in his eye. "And Annabeth."

I bit my lip. I never knew what to say, when the topic of Thalia or Annabeth came up. In Luke's eyes, Thalia seemed to be this perfect person, who could do anything. And, well, her name said enough about Annabeth.

"So …" I said. "You don't think that she'll look for us here?" There was no need to elaborate on who _'she'_ was.

He shook his head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this, and she was pretty young. I doubt Annabeth even remembers where they are. Or cares."

He threw himself down on the blankets and started to rifle through her duffel bag. His body language made it pretty clear that he didn't want to talk. Too fucking bad. He should know me better than that by now.

"Um, Tyson?" I said, glancing at him. "Would you mind scouting around outside? Like, look for a wilderness convenience store or something?"

"Convenience store?"

"Yeah, for snacks. Powdered donuts or something. Just don't go too far."

"Powdered donuts," Tyson said earnestly. "I will look for powdered donuts in the wilderness."

He headed outside and started calling, "Here, donuts!"

Once he was gone, I sat down beside Luke, and rested a hand on his knee delicately. "Hey, I'm sorry about, you know, seeing Annabeth."

"It's not your fault." He unsheathed his sword and started to clean the blade with a dirty rag.

"Well if I hadn't followed Hermes' suggestion of boarding the Cruise of Doom," I tried to joke. Luke gave a bitter smile.

"Yeah, well, neither our fathers are ever gonna get 'Parent of the Millennia Award'," he scoffed. I nodded in silent agreement, surprised when the sky didn't boom angrily. I supposed the gods just weren't listening. Or maybe they knew that it was true.

Nah, they just weren't listening.

"They let us go too easily," I said, deciding to switch the subject.

Luke nodded in agreement, switching from cleaning to sharpening his blade. "I was thinking the same thing. What we overheard them say about a gamble, and 'they'll take the bait'… I think that they were talking about us."

"The Fleece is the bait? Or Grover?"

He studied the edge of his sword. "I don't know, Ana. Maybe they want the Fleece for themselves. Maybe they're hoping that we'll do the hard work and then they can steal it from us."

"Do you think," I began tentatively, a horrifying thought dawning. "That they could use the Fleece to help speed up..." I trailed off, and Luke set down his sword. His expression was dark and grim.

"I dunno," he admitted. "Maybe. I just can't believe that Annabeth would poison the tree."

"What did he mean," I asked. "Thalia would've been on her side?"

"She's wrong."

"You don't sound sure," I pointed out bluntly.

Luke glared at me, but I kept my gaze steady. He huffed and looked away first, starting to sharpen Backbiter again.

"Ana, you know who you remind me of most? Thalia. You guys are so much alike it's actually scary. I mean, either you would've been best friends or you would've strangled each other."

"Knowing me, probably would have been Option B."

"Thalia got angry with her dad sometimes. So do you. Would you turn against Olympus because of that?"

"No, those half-bloods are idiots," I snorted. "Demi _gods_ can't exist without _gods_ to conceive us, traumatizing as that thought is. I can't believe they don't realize that. It's so obvious."

Luke blinked, shook his head, and gave a dry laugh. "Jeez, Ariel. Your mind works in mysterious ways. _I_ hadn't even thought of that, but yeah, you're right. Anyway, Annabeth was wrong. Thalia would never have supported any of this."

"So what did Annabeth mean about Cyclopes?" I asked. "She said that you of all people—"

"I know what she said. She … she was talking about the real reason Thalia died."

I waited, not sure what to say.

Luke drew in a shaky breath. "You can never trust a Cyclops, Ana. Six years ago, when Grover was leading us to Half-Blood Hill—"

He was interrupted when the door of the hut creaked open. Tyson crawled in.

"Powdered donuts!" he said proudly, holding up a pastry box.

Luke and I stared at him in bewilderment. "Where did you get that?" Luke demanded. "We're in the middle of the wilderness. There's nothing around for—"

"Fifty feet," Tyson cut in. "Monster Donut shop—just over the hill!"

"This is bad," Luke muttered.

"No kidding," I agreed. "Five dollars for two donuts? What in Olympus' name? That's totally a conspiracy."

We were crouching behind a tree, staring at the donut shop in the middle of the woods. It looked brand new, with brightly lit windows, a parking area, and a little road leading off into the forest, but there was nothing else around, and no cars parked in the lot. We could see one employee reading a magazine behind the cash register. That was it. On the store's marquis, in huge black letters that even I could read, it said:

MONSTER DONUT

A cartoon ogre was taking a bite out of the O in MONSTER. The place smelled good, like fresh-baked chocolate donuts.

Luke shot me one of those fondly exasperated looks that he always gave me when he thought I was being ditzy. "This shouldn't be here," he whispered. "It's wrong."

"What?" I asked doubtfully. "It's a donut shop." Though, this was the Greek world. Maybe the secret ingredient was Gorgon poison, or something.

"Shhh!"

"Why are we whispering? Tyson went in and bought a dozen. Nothing happened to him."

"He's a monster."

"Aw, c'mon, Luke. Monster Donut doesn't mean monsters! It's a chain. We've got them in New York."

"A chain," he agreed. "And don't you think it's strange that one appeared immediately after you told Tyson to get donuts? Right here in the middle of the woods?"

I bit my lip, hating to acknowledge someone else being right. "Possibly," I grudgingly admitted. "But no one said anything to me about chain restaurants being run by monsters! Does this mean I can't go to Burger King anymore?"

That'd suck. The one good thing about all the exercise that I have to do to stay alive is that I can scarf down as much junk food as I want. The Greek world was even taking my sugar fix from me? There is no justice.

He snorted and shook his head. "Nah, BK's safe. But some of the chains multiply so fast because all their locations are magically linked to the life force of a monster. Some of my half-siblings figured out how to do it back in the 1950s. They breed—"

He froze, staring over my shoulder. I tensed.

"What?" I demanded.

"No—sudden—moves," Luke warned, like his life depended on it. " _Very slowly,_ turn around."

Then I heard it: a scraping noise, like something large dragging its' belly through the leaves. Which, of course, is exactly what was happening.

I turned and saw a rhino-size thing moving through the shadows of the trees. It was hissing, its' front half writhing in all different directions. I couldn't understand what I was seeing at first. Then I realized the thing had multiple necks—at least seven, each topped with a hissing reptilian head. Its' skin was leathery, and under each neck it wore a plastic bib that read: I'M A MONSTER DONUT KID!

I began to slowly reach for my hairpin, but Luke locked eyes with me, sending a silent warning. Not yet.

I understood. A lot of monsters have terrible eyesight. It was possible the Hydra might pass us by. But if I uncapped my sword now, the bronze glow would certainly get its' attention.

We waited.

The Hydra was only a few feet away. It seemed to be sniffing the ground and the trees like it was hunting for something. Then I noticed that two of the heads were ripping apart a piece of yellow canvas—one of our duffel bags. The thing had already been to our campsite. It was following our scent.

My heart pounded. I'd seen a stuffed Hydra-head trophy at camp before, as well as in books, but those did nothing to prepare me for the real thing. Each head was diamond-shaped, like a rattlesnake's, but the mouths were lined with jagged rows of sharklike teeth.

Tyson was trembling. He stepped back and accidentally snapped a twig. Immediately, all seven heads turned toward us and hissed.

"Scatter!" Luke yelled. He dove to the right.

I rolled to the left. One of the Hydra heads spat an arc of green liquid that shot past my shoulder and splashed against an elm. The trunk smoked and began to disintegrate. The whole tree toppled straight toward Tyson, who still hadn't moved, petrified by the monster that was now right in front of him.

"Tyson!" I tackled him with all my might, somehow managing to defy the laws of physics and knock him aside just as the Hydra lunged and the tree crashed on top of two of its' heads.

The Hydra stumbled backward, yanking its' heads free then wailing in outrage at the fallen tree. All seven heads shot acid, and the elm melted into a steaming pool of muck.

"Move!" I told Tyson. I ran to one side and summoned my sword, hoping to draw the monster's attention.

It worked.

The sight of celestial bronze is hateful to monsters. As soon as my glowing blade appeared in my hand, the Hydra whipped toward it with all its' heads, hissing and baring its' teeth.

The good news: Tyson was momentarily out of danger. The bad news: I was about to be melted into a puddle of goo. And my hair was a _complete_ wreck. Godsdamnit, I hate my life. What'd I ever do to the Fates?

One of the heads snapped at me experimentally. Forgetting my lessons on Hydras, I automatically swung my sword.

"No!" Luke cried.

Too late. I sliced the Hydra's head clean off. It rolled away into the grass, leaving a flailing stump, which immediately stopped bleeding and began to swell like a balloon.

In a matter of seconds the wounded neck split into two necks, each of which grew a full-size head. Now I was looking at an eight-headed Hydra.

"Shit!" I snapped, jumping back.

"Ana, you okay?" Luke called.

"Fine! How the hell do we kill this thing? I can't remember!"

"Fire!" Luke answered. "We have to have fire!"

As soon as he said that, I remembered the story. The Hydra's heads would only stop multiplying if we burned the stumps before they regrew. That's what Heracles had done, anyway.

But we had no fire, and I was a water half-blood. I avoided fires as much as I can, as a matter of principal. I could totally see myself being extra vulnerable to being burned alive. It'd be just my luck.

I went with my instincts and began to back up toward river. The Hydra followed.

Luke moved in on my left and tried to distract one of the heads, parrying its' teeth with Backbiter, but another head swung sideways like a club and knocked him, swearing, into the muck.

"No hitting my friends!" Tyson charged in, putting himself between the Hydra and Luke's prone body.

As Luke scrambled to his feet, Tyson started smashing at the monster heads with his fists so fast it reminded me of the whack-a-mole game at the arcade. But not even Tyson could fend off the Hydra forever.

We kept inching backward, dodging acid splashes and deflecting snapping heads without cutting them off, but I knew that we were only postponing our deaths. Eventually, we would make a mistake and the thing would kill us. And Grover and Clarisse would die, before Camp too, fell under an onslaught of monsters.

Then I heard a strange sound—a chug-chug-chug that at first I thought was my heartbeat. It was so powerful that it made the riverbank shake.

"What's that noise?" Luke shouted, keeping his eyes fixed on the Hydra.

"Steam engine," Tyson replied.

"What?" I ducked as the Hydra spat acid over my head.

Then from the river behind us, a familiar female voice shouted: "There! Prepare the thirty-two-pounder!"

I didn't dare look away from the Hydra, but if that was who I thought it was behind us, I figured we now had a 60% to 40% chance of survival, depending on how pissed she was.

A gravelly male voice said, "They're too close, m'lady!"

"Damn it!" Clarisse snapped. "Full steam ahead!"

"Aye, m'lady."

"Fire at will, Captain!"

Luke understood what was happening a split second before I did.

"Hit the dirt!" he warned, and we dove for the ground just as an earth-shattering BOOM echoed from the river. There was a flash of light, a column of smoke, and the Hydra exploded right in front of us, showering us with nasty green slime that vaporized as soon as it hit, the way monster guts tend to do.

"Gross!" I screamed. I almost wished it was still alive, just to pay it back for my hair. Have you any clue how hard it is to get monster guts out of curls?

"Steamship!" yelled Tyson.

I stood, coughing from the cloud of gunpowder smoke that was rolling across the banks.

Chugging toward us down the river was the strangest ship I'd ever seen. It rode low in the water like a submarine, its' deck plated with iron. In the middle was a trapezoid-shaped casemate with slats on each side for cannons. A flag waved from the top—a wild boar and spear on a bloodred field. Lining the deck were zombies in grey uniforms— dead soldiers with shimmering faces that only partially covered their skulls, like the ghouls I'd seen in the Underworld guarding Hades' palace.

The ship was an ironclad. A Civil War battle cruiser. I could just make out the name along the prow in moss-covered letters: _CSS Birmingham_.

And standing next to the smoking cannon that had almost killed us, wearing full Greek battle armour, was Clarisse.

"Damn it Castellan!" She snapped, glaring at Luke, even though I'm fairly sure she knew that it was my fault. They didn't get along. "Come aboard, you godsdamn morons."


	10. A Brother's Loss

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Ten**

 **A Brother's Loss**

"You are in so much trouble," Clarisse said, looking grim.

We'd just finished a ship tour we didn't want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. We'd seen the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. We'd seen the pilothouse and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse's favourite) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft—all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannon balls.

Everywhere we went, dead Confederate sailors stared at us, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They cursed at Luke's Connecticut accent, and then they cursed at me, because I was from New York. My surname of Jackson seemed to offend them, too. I think there was a Confederate general named Jackson, during the war. A Yank with the name probably insulted them somehow. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees a lot, too. You'd think that two centuries (or however long it's been since the Civil War) would be enough to get them to let go of old grudges, but apparently not. Go figure.

Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted that I hold his hand. It was a bit annoying. As much as I loved my baby brother, I was not born with an endless supply of patience, and indulging him all the time was beginning to get frustrating. What if I needed to fight? I'd be stuck soothing Tyson's ghost phobia instead, and that's just not acceptable. But, I decided I'd leave it be, just for the moment. Later, I'd explain that his clinging to me all the time wasn't acceptable, but I'd wait until the more important things were dealt with.

Finally, we were escorted to dinner. The _CSS Birmingham_ captain's quarters were about the size of a medium-sized walk-in closet, but it was still a hell of a lot bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. I didn't want to eat anything served by ghosts, but my hunger overruled my fear.

"Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse continued. "Mr. D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he'll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV. We tried to argue in your favour, but it just made it worse."

"Thanks for trying, anyway," I sighed. "Anyway, if we live, Chiron will come back. No need to worry. And if we live, but Tantalus stays, I don't _want_ to go back."

Clarisse smirked, but underneath her confidence, I could see that she was as worried about Camp as I was. I decided to change the subject. Sort of, anyway.

"Did they give you this ship?" I asked.

Clarisse shook her head. "Can you imagine Tantalus being helpful? No, my father gave it to me."

"Ares?" It was hard to tell who was more surprised, me or Luke.

Clarisse nodded. "The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares," she explained. "That's their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won't you, Captain?"

The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes fixed me with a hungry stare. "If it means an end to this infernal war, ma'am, peace at last, we'll do anything. Destroy anyone."

Did they think the Civil War was still going on, or something? They needed to switch on a tv sometime. Get updated on the modern affairs of the world.

Clarisse smiled. "Destroy anyone. I like that." Well, I've never met a half-blood pacifist at any rate. Any demigod stupid enough to become a hippy would probably die trying to convince a hellhound to make daisy chains with them.

I was broken out of my weird imaginings by Tyson gulping. I patted him absently on the arm as Luke leaned in to Clarisse.

"Clarisse," he said, "Annabeth and Ethan might be after the Fleece, too. We saw them. They've got the coordinates and they're heading south. They have a cruise ship full of monsters—"

"Good! I'll blow it out of the water."

"We have to combine forces," Luke insisted. "Let us help you—"

"No!" Clarisse pounded the table. "This is my quest, Shoe Boy! I won't-"

"Of course it's your quest," I hastily intervened. "No one is arguing about that. You deserve the recognition. But all of us have the same goal, and same destination. It makes more sense if we work together, rather than act separately and risk getting the other killed, or worse, losing our chance at the Fleece. We need to think of what's best for the camp, Clarisse. And you know that all of us working together is the best chance we have of getting that Fleece home."

Clarisse sighed bitterly, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I dunno if I hate or love your ability to get people on your side, Princess," she huffed. "But, you're right. Just remember, I'm in charge."

"Of course, and you'll do an amazing job at it," I replied without batting an eyelash. Luke looked sick at the thought of following Clarisse's orders, but he gave a reluctant agreement after I elbowed him sharply in the gut.

Clarisse propped her feet up on the white linen tablecloth and opened another Dr Pepper. "It's late, you should get some sleep. We can plan in the morning. Captain, take them below. Assign them hammocks on the berth deck. Then bring me the maps. I wanna take another look at them."

The dream came as soon as I fell asleep.

Grover was sitting at his loom, desperately unravelling his wedding train, when the boulder door rolled aside and the Cyclops bellowed, "Aha!"

Grover yelped. "Dear! I didn't—you were so quiet!"

"Unravelling!" Polyphemus roared. "So that's the problem!"

"Oh, no. I—I wasn't—"

"Come!" Polyphemus grabbed Grover around the waist and half carried, half dragged him through the tunnels of the cave. Grover struggled to keep his high heels on his hooves. His veil kept tilting on his head, threatening to come off.

The Cyclops pulled him into a warehouse-size cavern decorated with sheep junk. There was a wool-covered La-Z-Boy recliner and a wool-covered television set, crude bookshelves loaded with sheep collectibles—coffee mugs shaped like sheep faces, plaster figurines of sheep, sheep board games, and picture books and action figures. The floor was littered with piles of sheep bones, and other bones that didn't look exactly like sheep—the bones of satyrs who'd come to the island looking for Pan. It was a nightmare version of a bachelor's pad, and I had the urge to clean it, it was _that_ awful.

Polyphemus set Grover down only long enough to move another huge boulder. Daylight streamed into the cave, and Grover whimpered with longing. Fresh air!

The Cyclops dragged him outside to a hilltop overlooking the most beautiful island I'd ever seen. (Not that I'd seen a lot, but you get the message. Trés pittoresque, as the French say. I think.)

It was shaped kind of like a saddle cut in half by an axe. There were lush green hills on either side and a wide valley in the middle, split by a deep chasm that was spanned by a rope bridge.

Beautiful streams rolled to the edge of the canyon and dropped off in rainbow-colored waterfalls.

Parrots fluttered in the trees. Pink and purple flowers bloomed on the bushes. Hundreds of sheep grazed in the meadows, their wool glinting strangely like copper and silver coins.

And at the centre of the island, right next to the rope bridge, was an enormous twisted oak tree with something glittering in its' lowest bough.

The Golden Fleece.

Even in a dream, I could feel its' power radiating across the island, making the grass greener, the flowers more beautiful. I could almost smell the nature magic at work. I could only imagine how powerful the scent would be for a satyr.

Grover whimpered.

"Yes," Polyphemus said proudly. "See over there? Fleece is the prize of my collection! Stole it from heroes long ago, and ever since—free food! Satyrs come from all over the world, like moths to flame. Satyrs good eating! And now—"

Polyphemus scooped up a wicked set of bronze shears.

Grover yelped, but Polyphemus just picked up the nearest sheep like it was a stuffed animal and shaved off its wool. He handed a fluffy mass of it to Grover.

"Put that on the spinning wheel!" he said proudly. "Magic. Cannot be unravelled."

"Oh … well …"

"Poor Honeypie!" Polyphemus grinned. "Bad weaver. Ha-ha! Not to worry. That thread will solve problem. Finish wedding train by tomorrow!"

"Isn't that … thoughtful of you!"

"Hehe."

"But—but, dear," Grover gulped, "what if someone were to rescue—I mean attack this island?" Grover looked straight at me, and I knew he was asking for my benefit. "What would keep them from marching right up here to your cave?"

"Wifey scared! So cute! Not to worry. Polyphemus has state-of-the-art security system. Have to get through my pets."

"Pets?"

Grover looked across the island, but there was nothing to see except sheep grazing peacefully in the meadows.

"And then," Polyphemus growled, "they would have to get through me!"

He pounded his fist against the nearest rock, which cracked and split in half. "Now, come!" he shouted. "Back to the cave."

Grover looked about ready to cry—so close to freedom, but so hopelessly far. It broke my heart to watch helplessly as the tears welled in his eyes while the boulder door rolled shut, sealing him once again in the stinky torch-lit dankness of the Cyclops's cave.

That's when I woke to alarm bells ringing throughout the ship.

The captain's gravelly voice: "All hands on deck! Find Lady Clarisse! Where is that girl?" Then his ghostly face appeared above me. "Get up, Yankee. Your friends are already above. We're approaching the entrance to the Sea of Monsters."

I stuffed my few belongings that had survived the Hydra into a sailor's canvas knapsack and slung it over my shoulder. I had learned the hard way to always be ready to run, and I wasn't sure if the ghost ship would be able to withstand the Sea of Monsters itself. It might capsize, and if I lost the gifts he gave me, Hermes would probably curse me with bad Internet for the rest of eternity, or something like that, anyway.

I was on my way upstairs when something made me freeze. A presence nearby—something familiar and unpleasant. For no particular reason, I felt like picking a fight. I wanted to punch someone. The last time I'd felt like that kind of anger …

Instead of going up, I crept to the edge of the ventilation grate and peered down into the boiler deck.

Clarisse was standing right below me, talking to an image that shimmered in the steam from the boilers—a muscular man in black leather biker clothes, with a military haircut, red-tinted sunglasses, and a knife strapped to his side.

My fists clenched at the sight. It was Ares, the god of war.

"I don't want excuses, little girl!" he growled.

"Y-yes, father," Clarisse mumbled.

"You don't want to see me mad, do you?"

"No, father."

"No, father," Ares mimicked. "You're pathetic. I should've let one of my sons take this quest."

I bit back an angry growl. How dare Ares treat anyone, let alone one of my closest friends, his own child, like that? Gods, how I loathed him. I should have left, because I knew that Clarisse, proud as she was, would hate being seen like this. But, for whatever reason, I didn't. I stayed and watched.

"I'll succeed!" Clarisse promised, her voice trembling. "I'll make you proud."

"You'd better," he warned. "You asked me for this quest, girl. If you let that bitch Jackson steal it from you—"

"But the Oracle said—"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IT SAID!" Ares bellowed so forcefully his image shimmered.

"You will succeed. And if you don't …"

He raised his fist. Even though he was only a figure in the steam, Clarisse flinched.

"Do we understand each other?" Ares growled.

The alarm bells rang again. I heard voices coming toward me, officers yelling orders to ready the cannons.

I crept back from the ventilation grate and made my way upstairs to join Luke and Tyson on the spar deck.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked me. As usual, he could tell I was upset with a glance. "Another dream?"

I nodded, but I didn't say anything. I wasn't about to mention what I'd seen downstairs. It bothered me as much as the dream about Grover.

Clarisse came up the stairs right after me. I tried not to look at her, or let on what I had seen. She would never forgive me if she found out that I'd eavesdropped.

She grabbed a pair of binoculars from a zombie officer and peered toward the horizon. "At last. Captain, full steam ahead!"

I looked in the same direction as she was, but I couldn't see much. The sky was overcast.

The air was hazy and humid, like steam from an iron. If I squinted really hard, I could just make out a couple of dark fuzzy splotches in the distance.

My nautical senses told me we were somewhere off the coast of northern Florida, so we'd come a long way overnight, farther than any mortal ship would've been able to travel.

The engine groaned as we increased speed.

Tyson muttered nervously, "Too much strain on the pistons. Not meant for deep water."

I wasn't sure how he knew that, but it made me nervous. I adjusted my pack, reassured by its' weight, and moved closer to my boys. The closer they were, the easier it would be for me to use my powers to shield them when everything inevitably went to Tartarus.

After a few more minutes, the dark splotches ahead of us came into focus. To the north, a huge mass of rock rose out of the sea—an island with cliffs at least a hundred feet tall. About half a mile south of that, the other patch of darkness was a storm brewing. The sky and sea boiled together in a roaring mass.

"Hurricane?" Luke asked. He sounded hopeful.

"No," Clarisse said. "Charybdis."

Luke paled in horror. "You're crazy!"

"Only way into the Sea of Monsters," she replied stoically. "Straight between Charybdis and her sister Scylla."

Clarisse pointed to the top of the cliffs, and I got the feeling something lived up there that I did not want to meet.

"Why not just sail around them?" I asked.

Clarisse shook her head. "If we tried to sail around them, they would just appear in our path again. If you want to get into the Sea of Monsters, you have to sail through them."

"What about the Clashing Rocks?" Luke pointed out. "That's another gateway. Jason used it."

"I can't blow apart rocks with my cannons," Clarisse said. "Monsters, on the other hand …"

"You are a completely suicidal lunatic," Luke decided. "She is!" he added when I slapped him over the head.

"Just watch and learn, Messenger Boy." Clarisse turned to the captain. "Set course for Charybdis!"

"Aye, m'lady."

The engine groaned, the iron plating rattled, and the ship began to pick up speed. I bit my lip, a sick feeling stirring in my mind as my knowledge of Charybdis, limited though it was, began to creep in.

"Clarisse," I said, carefully. "Charybdis sucks up the sea. Isn't that the story?"

"And spits it back out again, yeah."

"What about Scylla?"

"She lives in a cave, up on those cliffs. If we get too close, her snaky heads will come down and start plucking sailors off the ship."

"Choose Scylla then," I said. "Everybody goes below deck and we chug right past."

"No!" Clarisse insisted. "If Scylla doesn't get her easy meat, she might pick up the whole ship. Besides, she's too high to make a good target. My cannons can't shoot straight up. Charybdis just sits there at the centre of her whirlwind. We're going to steam straight toward her, train our guns on her, and blow her to Tartarus!"

She said it with such relish I could almost believe her.

The engine hummed. The boilers were heating up so much I could feel the deck getting warm beneath my feet. The smokestacks billowed. The red Ares flag whipped in the wind.

As we got closer to the monsters, the sound of Charybdis got louder and louder—a horrible wet roar that nearly made my eardrums burst. Every time Charybdis inhaled, the ship shuddered and lurched forward. Every time she exhaled, we rose in the water and were buffeted by ten-foot waves.

I tried to time the whirlpool. As near as I could figure, it took Charybdis about three minutes to suck up and destroy everything within a half-mile radius. To avoid her, we would have to skirt right next to Scylla's cliffs. And as bad as Scylla might be, those cliffs were looking awfully good to me.

Undead sailors calmly went about their business on the spar deck. I guess they'd fought a losing cause before, so this didn't bother them. Or maybe they didn't care about getting destroyed because they were already deceased. Neither thought made me feel any better.

Luke stood next to me, gripping the rail tightly in a white knuckled grip. "You still have your thermos full of wind?"

I nodded. "But it's too dangerous to use with a whirlpool like that. More wind might just make things worse."

"What about controlling the water?" he asked. "You're Poseidon's daughter. You've done it before."

Without replying, I closed my eyes and tried to calm the sea, but I couldn't concentrate. Charybdis was too loud and powerful. The waves wouldn't respond.

"I—I can't," I said miserably. "It's too strong for me."

"I know that I sound like an Athenian kid, but we need a backup plan," Luke insisted. "This isn't going to work."

"Luke is right," Tyson said. "Engine's no good."

"What do you mean?" I asked quickly.

"Pressure. Pistons need fixing."

Before he could explain, there was a mighty roaaar! The ship lurched forward and I was thrown to the deck. We were in the whirlpool.

"Full reverse!" Clarisse screamed above the noise. The sea churned around us, waves crashing over the deck. The iron plating was now so hot it steamed. "Get us within firing range! Make ready starboard cannons!"

Dead Confederates rushed back and forth. The propeller grinded into reverse, trying to slow the ship, but we kept sliding toward the centre of the vortex.

A zombie sailor burst out of the hold and ran to Clarisse. His grey uniform was smoking. His beard was on fire. "Boiler room overheating, ma'am! She's going to blow!"

"Well, get down there and fix it!"

"Can't!" the sailor yelled. "We're vaporizing in the heat."

Clarisse pounded the side of the casemate. "All I need is a few more minutes! Just enough to get in range!"

"We're going in too fast," the captain said grimly. "Prepare yourself for death."

How, I wondered, did you 'prepare yourself for death?' Was there a form to fill out? I had written my will shortly after my first quest, and updated it a few weeks ago, so that was 'prepared'. I stuck my hand in pocket, feeling my drachmae pouch. It was there, so at least we would be able to pay for passage to the Underworld. I wouldn't want to spend the next few centuries stuck in that horribly decorated waiting room.

"I can fix it!" Tyson declared, breaking me from my morbid plans. Horror gripped me at the suggestion, and I shook my head desperately.

Clarisse looked at him incredulously. "You?"

"He's a Cyclops," Luke said. "He's immune to fire. And he knows mechanics."

"Go!" yelled Clarisse.

"Tyson, no!" I grabbed his arm. "It's too dangerous!"

He patted my hand. "Only way, sister." His expression was determined—confident, even. I'd never seen him look like this before. "I will fix it. Be right back."

As I watched him follow the smouldering sailor down the hatch, I had a terrible feeling. I wanted to run after him, but the ship lurched again, forcing me to concentrate on the current situation. That's when I saw Charybdis.

She appeared only a few hundred yards away, through a swirl of mist and smoke and water.

The first thing I noticed was the reef—a black crag of coral with a fig tree clinging to the top, an oddly peaceful thing in the middle of a maelstrom. All around it, water curved into a funnel, like light around a black hole. Then I saw the horrible thing anchored to the reef just below the waterline—an enormous mouth with slimy lips and mossy teeth the size of rowboats. And worse, the teeth had braces, bands of corroded scummy metal with pieces of fish and driftwood and floating garbage stuck between them.

Charybdis was an orthodontist's nightmare. She was nothing but a huge black maw with bad teeth alignment and a serious overbite, and she'd done nothing for centuries but eat without brushing after meals. As I watched, the entire sea around her was sucked into the void—sharks, schools of fish, a giant squid. And I realized that in a few seconds, the _CSS Birmingham_ would be next.

"Lady Clarisse," the captain shouted. "Starboard and forward guns are in range!"

"Fire!" Clarisse ordered.

Three rounds were blasted into the monster's maw. One blew off the edge of an incisor.

Another disappeared into her gullet. The third hit one of Charybdis' retaining bands and shot back at us, snapping the Ares flag off its' pole (giving me a vindictive sense of pleasure as I imagined Ares' expression at the sight of his ripped flag.)

"Again!" Clarisse ordered. The gunners reloaded, but I knew it was hopeless. We would have to pound the monster a hundred more times to do any real damage, and we didn't have that long. We were being sucked in too fast.

Then the vibrations in the deck changed. The hum of the engine got stronger and steadier. The ship shuddered and we started pulling away from the mouth.

"Tyson did it!" Luke exclaimed.

"Wait!" Clarisse said. "We need to stay close!"

"We'll die!" I snapped back. "We have to move away."

I gripped the rail as the ship fought against the suction. The broken Ares flag raced past us and lodged in Charybdis' braces. We weren't making much progress, but at least we were holding our own. Tyson had somehow given us just enough juice to keep the ship from being sucked in.

Suddenly, the mouth snapped shut. The sea died to absolute calm. Water washed over Charybdis.

Then, just as quickly as it had closed, the mouth exploded open, spitting out a wall of water, ejecting everything inedible, including our cannonballs, one of which slammed into the side of the _CSS Birmingham_ with a ding like the bell on a carnival game.

We were thrown backward on a wave that must've been forty feet high. I used all of my willpower to keep the ship from capsizing, but we were still spinning out of control, hurtling toward the cliffs on the opposite side of the strait.

Another smouldering sailor burst out of the hold. He stumbled into Clarisse, almost knocking them both overboard. "The engine is about to blow!"

"Where's Tyson?" I demanded.

"Still down there," the sailor said. "Holding it together somehow, though I don't know for how much longer."

"We have to abandon ship," the captain said urgently.

"No!" Clarisse yelled.

"We have no choice, m'lady. The hull is already cracking apart! She can't—"

He never finished his sentence. Quick as lightning, something brown and green shot from the sky, snatched up the captain, and lifted him away. All that was left were his leather boots.

"Scylla!" a sailor yelled, as another column of reptilian flesh shot from the cliffs and snapped him up. It happened so fast it was like watching a laser beam rather than a monster. It was so fast, I couldn't even make out the thing's face, just a flash of yellow teeth and scales.

I uncapped Anaklusmos and tried to swipe at the monster as it carried off another deckhand, but I was way too slow.

"Everyone get below!" I yelled.

"We can't!" Clarisse drew her own sword. "Below deck is in flames."

"Lifeboats!" Luke called. "Quick!"

"They'll never get clear of the cliffs," Clarisse said. "We'll all be eaten."

"We have to try. Ana, the thermos."

"I'm not leaving Tyson!"

"We have to get the boats ready!"

Clarisse took Luke's command. She and a few of her undead sailors uncovered one of the two emergency rowboats while Scylla's heads rained from the sky like a meteor shower with teeth, picking off Confederate sailors one after another.

"Get the other boat." I threw Luke the thermos. "I'll get Tyson."

"You can't!" she said. "The heat will kill you!"

I didn't listen. I ran for the boiler room hatch, when suddenly my feet weren't touching the deck anymore. I was flying straight up, the wind whistling in my ears, the side of the cliff only inches from my face.

Scylla had somehow caught me by the knapsack, and she was now lifting me up toward her lair.

Without thinking, I swung my sword behind me and managed to jab the thing in her beady yellow eye. She grunted and dropped me.

The fall would've been bad enough, considering I was a hundred feet in the air. But as I fell, the _CSS Birmingham_ exploded below me.

KAROOM!

The engine room blew, sending chunks of ironclad flying in either direction like a fiery set of wings.

"Tyson!" I yelled.

The lifeboats had managed to get away from the ship, but not very far. Flaming wreckage was raining down. Clarisse and Luke would either be smashed or burned or pulled to the bottom by the force of the sinking hull, and that was thinking optimistically, assuming they got away from Scylla.

Then I heard a different kind of explosion—the sound of Hermes's magic thermos being opened just a little bit too far. White sheets of wind blasted in every direction, scattering the lifeboats, lifting me out of my free fall and propelling me across the ocean.

I couldn't see anything. I spun in the air, got clonked on the head by something hard, and hit the water with a crash that would've broken every bone in my body if I hadn't been the daughter of the Sea God.

The last thing I remembered was sinking in a burning sea, knowing that Tyson was gone forever, and wishing I were able to drown.


	11. CC's Spa

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Eleven**

**C.C's Spa and Torture Resort**

I woke up in a rowboat with a makeshift sail stitched of grey uniform fabric. Luke sat next to me, attempting to paddle.

I tried to sit up and immediately felt woozy.

"Rest," he said, reaching out to stop me seconds too late. Like I'd been too late to help my baby brother. Only my one was way worse. "You're going to need it."

"Tyson …?"

He shook his head, looking genuinely upset. "Ariel, I'm really sorry."

We were silent while the waves tossed us up and down.

"He may have survived," he suggested half-heartedly, though he obviously doubted it. "I mean, fire can't kill him."

I nodded, but I had no reason to feel hopeful. I'd seen that explosion rip through solid iron. If Tyson had been down in the boiler room, there was no way he could've lived.

He'd given his life for us, and all I could think about was how I'd been so irritated by his need for my comfort around the ghosts aboard the _CSS Birmingham_. And Clarisse, what about her? Had she managed to survive the explosion?

Waves lapped at the boat. Luke showed me some that things he had managed to salvage from the wreckage—Hermes's thermos (now empty), a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia, a couple of sailors' shirts, and a bottle of Dr Pepper. He'd fished me out of the water and found my knapsack, bitten in half by Scylla's teeth. Most of my stuff had floated away, but I still had Hermes's bottle of multivitamins, and of course I had Anaklusmos. The emerald-studded hairpin always appeared back in my hair no matter where I lost it.

We sailed for hours, barely speaking as I focused on directing the boat. Now that we were in the Sea of Monsters, the water glittered a more brilliant green, like Hydra acid. The wind smelled fresh and salty, but it carried a strange metallic scent, too—as if a thunderstorm were coming. Or something even more dangerous. I knew what direction we needed to go. I knew we were exactly one hundred thirteen nautical miles west by northwest of our destination. But that didn't make me feel any less lost.

No matter which way we turned, the sun seemed to shine straight into my eyes. We took turns sipping from the Dr Pepper, shading ourselves with the sail as best we could. And we talked about my latest dream of Grover.

Our best guess gave us less than twenty-four hours to find Grover. And that was assuming that my dream was accurate, and that Polyphemus didn't change his mind and try to marry Grover earlier.

"Yeah," I said bitterly, when Luke pointed that out. "Because you can never trust a Cyclops, right?"

Luke sighed and stared across the water. "I'm sorry, Ana," he admitted. "I was wrong about Tyson, okay? He was a good guy. I wish that I could apologize and tell him that."

I wanted to stay mad at him, but it wasn't easy. We'd been through so much together. He'd saved my life more times than I could count. It was stupid of me to resent him, especially when it was really myself that I was upset with.

I looked down at our measly possessions—the empty wind thermos, the bottle of multivitamins. I thought about Tyson's innocent sweetness. He had trusted me, and I had let him down when he needed me most. Why did the people I love always get killed? First my mother, then my brother.

Maybe the Fates had cursed me for some reason. Maybe I had been reborn, but I was such an awful person in my first life, the Fields of Punishment weren't enough suffering, so they had given me a life of tragedy to ensure I repented. Well, if that was the case, it had worked out perfectly.

"Why do the gods even let me live?" I wondered. "If I'm prophesized to destroy the world, it would be safer just to kill me."

Luke sighed and raked a hand through his windswept blonde curls. He looked as worn out as I felt.

"Ana, I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess some of the gods would like to kill you, but they're probably afraid of offending Poseidon. Other gods … maybe they're still watching you, trying to decide what kind of hero you're going be. You could be a weapon for their survival, after all. The real question is … what will you do in three years? What decision will you make?"

"Did the prophecy give any hints?"

Luke hesitated. Neither of us mentioned the prophecy much, mostly because the pressure tended to make me feel like I was going to have a panic attack. But I was feeling masochistic, so I brought it up anyway.

Maybe he would've told me more, but just then a seagull swooped down out of nowhere and landed on our makeshift mast. Luke looked startled as the bird dropped a small cluster of leaves into his lap.

"Land," he declared, pointing. "There's land nearby!"

I sat up. Sure enough, there was a line of blue and brown in the distance. Another minute and I could make out an island with a small mountain in the centre, a dazzling white collection of buildings, a beach dotted with palm trees, and a harbour filled with a strange assortment of boats.

The current was pulling our rowboat toward what looked like a tropical paradise.

"This is so definitely a trap," I stated, rising and squinting at it.

"Yes," Luke agreed. "But we need more supplies and a faster boat, so we might as well trip it, anyway."

I sighed, and gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

We sailed past into the dock, and were greeted by a sign saying we had arrived at 'C.C's Spa and Resort'.

"Why would a spa be out in the middle of the Sea of Monsters?" Luke asked suspiciously. I ignored him, focused on a much more important fact.

"Shower," I cooed. He gave me an exasperated look.

"Trap, Ariel," he reminded me.

I waved him off irritably, giving him a look that said I was not going to budged on this topic.

" _After_ I'm clean," I insisted. He huffed and gave in, rolling his eyes. I stepped on his foot as firmly as I could as I clambered out of the lifeboat.

Oddly enough, our rowboat wasn't the weirdest ship in port. Along with a bunch of pleasure yachts, there was a U.S. Navy submarine, several dugout canoes, a helipad with a "Channel Five Fort Lauderdale" helicopter on it, a short runway with a Learjet and a propeller plane that looked like a World War II fighter. Finally, there was an old-fashioned three-masted sailing ship.

After a moment of investigating the docks, we followed the sounds of habitation, as well as the smell of food. We passed through a sort of outdoor lounge, and that's when I noticed something odd.

There were a _lot_ of women, ranging from their teens to their thirties. They were all stunning, swimming in a pool, kicking back in a tub, sipping drinks on lawn chairs. But there were no guys around. It made me feel suspicious. I supposed that it could be a women's only spa, which was typical enough, but. This was the Sea of Monsters, and we were demigods. That would be too easy.

"Where are all the guys?" I asked Luke in a low tone.

"Huh?" he mumbled back. When I glanced at him, I was infuriated to see him blatantly gaping at the half-naked women we were passing. I shoved him as hard as I could, glaring at him.

"Hey, Casanova!" I snapped. "I'm right here, you know."

"So?" he shrugged, and I went to punch him, but was interrupted.

"Welcome!" a woman exclaimed, coming up to us. She looked like a flight attendant—blue business suit, perfect makeup, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She shook our hands, wearing a bright 'business person' smile. For some reason, her demeanour seemed off. Something about her stance made me think she would make a better warrior than a businesswoman.

And, honestly, she just gave me a sense of unease. Like she was an enemy, and I had to get away as quick as possible. When I glanced at Luke, he didn't seem to pick up the same feeling. But then again, he was _still. Staring._ at the women in bikinis. I bit back an angry growl of frustration at that, stepping on his foot to draw his attention.

"My name is Hylla," she continued. "I'm a manager here at the resort. Is this your first time with us?"

Luke and I exchanged looks.

"Uh, yeah," I gave a hesitant nod.

"First—time—at—spa," Hylla said with a nod as she wrote on her clipboard. "Let's see then …"

She looked us up and down critically. "Mmm. An herbal wrap to start for the young lady. And of course, a complete makeover for the young gentleman."

"A what?" I asked.

She was too busy jotting down notes to answer.

"Right!" She said with a breezy smile. "Well, I'm sure C.C. will want to speak with you personally before the luau. Come, please."

"Uh, we can't stay," I replied.

"Why not?" she frowned.

"Well, we have this thing soon," Luke explained vaguely. "And it's kind of got a deadline, you know? We have to hurry."

"Well, at least stay for a few hours," she insisted. "Meet C.C and have something to eat." Something in her eyes told me if we didn't submit, we would end up in a fight, and I was way too exhausted for that to go well. We exchanged quick looks, before reluctantly nodding.

"I guess it couldn't hurt," I muttered, making Hylla smile brightly.

I had to admit it. The place was amazing. There was white marble and blue water everywhere I looked.

Terraces climbed up the side of the mountain, with swimming pools on every level, connected by watersides and waterfalls and underwater tubes you could swim through. Fountains sprayed water into the air, forming impossible shapes, like flying eagles and galloping horses.

Tyson loved horses, and I knew he'd love those fountains. I almost turned around to see the expression on his face before I remembered: Tyson was gone.

"You okay?" Luke asked me. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," I replied. It wasn't a lie, after all. As Katie said: FINE stands for Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. Check, check, check and check. "Just … let's keep walking."

We passed all kinds of tame animals. A sea turtle napped in a stack of beach towels. A leopard stretched out asleep on the diving board. The resort guests—still only young women, as far as I could see—lounged in deck chairs, drinking fruit smoothies or reading magazines while herbal face masks dried on their faces and manicurists in white uniforms did their nails.

As we headed up a staircase toward what looked like the main building, I heard a woman singing. Her voice drifted through the air like a lullaby. Her words were in some language other than Ancient Greek, but just as old—Minoan, maybe, or something like that. I could understand what she sang about—moonlight in the olive groves, the colours of the sunrise. And magic. Something about magic. Her voice seemed to lift me off the steps and carry me toward her.

We came into a big room where the whole front wall was windows. The back wall was covered in mirrors, so the room seemed to go on forever. There was a bunch of expensive-looking white furniture, and on a table in one corner was a large wire pet cage. The cage seemed out of place, but I didn't think about it too much, because just then I saw the lady who'd been singing … and whoa.

She sat at a loom the size of a big screen TV, her hands weaving coloured thread back and forth with amazing skill. The tapestry shimmered like it was three dimensional—a waterfall scene so real I could see the water moving and clouds drifting across a fabric sky.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

The woman turned. She was even prettier than her fabric. Her long dark hair was braided with threads of gold. She had piercing green eyes and she wore a silky black dress with shapes that seemed to move in the fabric: animal shadows, black upon black, like deer running through a forest at night.

"You appreciate weaving, my dear?" the woman asked me with a friendly smile.

"I appreciate beauty," I replied honestly.

Our hostess smiled at that. "You have good taste, my dear. I'm so glad you've come. My name is C.C."

The animals in the corner cage started squealing. They must've been guinea pigs, from the sound of them. Meanwhile, C.C. looked us over with a frown, irritating me a bit.

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "You do need my help."

"Ma'am?" Luke asked. He looked like a kicked puppy, which just made me more annoyed at the woman.

C.C. called to the lady in the business suit. "Hylla, take Ana on a tour, will you? Show her what we have available. The clothing will need to change. And the hair, my goodness. We will do a full image consultation after I've spoken with this young gentleman."

I bristled at that. "What's wrong with my hair?" I demanded. Sure, it was tangled from the past few days, but it wasn't that bad, was it? And, I frowned. She wanted to separate us? That seemed like a bad idea. We didn't have time to spare. Who did this woman think she was, anyway? I noticed how entranced Luke was by her, and it made me even more pissed off.

"I really don't think-" I began, but she stopped me.

"Go with Hylla, dear. She'll sort you out, nice and quickly. You don't have to worry about a thing."

"Go on, Ariel," Luke added, waving me off without looking away from C.C's revealing top. "You said that you wanted a shower."

Reluctantly, I followed Hylla out the door, and was bustled off to some sort of make-over area. There, I met her younger sister, Reyna, and received a 'make-over'. A.k.a, a cleverly-concealed torture session. It was _way_ worse, and _way_ more intense than any of the ones Silena had given me.

I had been waxed, plucked, buffed and polished for two hours before they finally declared me finished. I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror, feeling like a Barbie doll, and not remotely like myself. Whenever Silena gave me make-over, she always made sure to stay true to my personality. Practical and pretty clothes that I could move in, and just a small amount of make-up.

Not so with Hylla and her sister. I wore a floor-length, mermaid style, emerald-coloured evening dress with a long slit up to my knee. Underneath, I wore a pair of silver stilettos, of all things, and a thong, of all things. I could barely move, and fighting was definitely out of the question.

My hair was done up with bronze ribbons, and I was wearing more make-up than I had thought possible. It had been a battle and a half to get to keep my hairpin, but I had managed after Reyna had gotten a pair of emerald-and-bronze earrings and a matching necklace to go with it. The ribbons had also been chosen to match. It was mad, all of it.

I felt ridiculous, and very un-Ana Jackson-like. I decided very firmly that it was time to find Luke, and get the hell out of here. Grover and Camp awaited us, after all. We didn't have time for this.

"You look beautiful," Reyna told me, the first thing she had said to me at all. I smiled back tightly.

"Uh, thanks," I returned politely. "Listen, can I go and talk to C.C please?"

"Of course," Hylla cheered. "You can tell her that you want to stay now."

I bit back a scoff, giving a small nod in response. I thought that I deserved an award for not ending up falling flat on my face as I walked on the heels, though Hylla scolded me for being 'too harsh' with my footsteps. Whatever _that_ meant.

We arrived back at the same place that we had first met C.C in, and Hylla left me. When I entered, C.C was humming at her loom once again, but Luke was nowhere to be seen. A sick feeling started in my stomach, and I cursed both of us for being so stupid as to go into a trap deliberately. How arrogant were we? Hadn't we learned any common sense over our lives? Morons, both of us.

Especially Luke. I bet that he had been too distracted by C.C's breasts to notice that she was about to kill him. This was all his fault. He'd known about the Greek world a lot longer than me, after all. I would've left earlier if he hadn't pressed me into going with Hylla to the damn make-over. At least the stilettos would be handy to stab someone with, if needed.

"Ah, Ana, you look absolutely lovely!" C.C exclaimed as I entered. I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded. "I never told it to you."

She faltered for a second before quickly rallying, giving me a familiar smile. It was the 'I'm innocent, not a monster. Lower your guard so I can kill you, demigod' smile. I had become very familiar with that smile, and I cursed our foolishness again when I saw it.

"Your friend, Luke, told it to me," she claimed. I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Oh?" I asked curtly. "Where is Luke, by the way? We really have to get going, you know. We have a deadline." In the corner, the guinea pigs squealed for attention, giving me a headache.

"Why would you want to go, my dear?" C.C asked, ignoring my question about Luke. "You have so much potential!"

"Potential for what?"

"Potential to be a sorceress, my dear," C.C leaned in to me. She waved her wrist, causing a small flame to dance over her hand.

I took a wary step back. "A sorceress?"

"Yes, my dear." C.C. held up her hand. A flame appeared in her palm and danced across her fingertips. "My mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic. I know a demigod when I see one. And the world is full of gossip about you, since your claiming last summer. We are not so different, you and I. We both admire greatness. Neither of us needs to stand in the shadow of men."

"I don't understand," I said slowly. A guinea pig squealed again, and I rubbed my forehead, fighting the headache coming on.

"Stay with me," C.C. urged. "Study with me. You can join our staff, become a sorceress, learn to bend others to your will. You will become immortal!"

Immortal? Why the hell would I want to be immortal? This woman clearly had no clue how I thought. Immortality would be like Tartarus, if you asked me. "But—"

"You know better than to trust that silly camp for heroes," C.C insisted. I bristled at the insult to my home as she continued dismissively. "How many great female half-blood heroes can you name?"

"Um, Atalanta, Amelia Earhart—" I listed, but C.C cut me off.

"Bah! Men get all the glory." C.C. closed her fist and extinguished the magic flame. "The only way to power for women is sorcery. Medea, Calypso, now there were powerful women! And me, of course. The greatest of all."

Realization dawned me. C.C. "You're Circe!"

"Yes, my dear."

I backed up, twitching for my sword, and Circe laughed. "You need not worry. I mean you no harm."

"What have you done to Luke?" I demanded harshly. Circe smirked at waved at the cage of rodents in the corner.

"Only helped him to realize his true form."

My eyes widened in realization. In the Ancient days, Circe had turned men into actual pigs. Apparently she had modernized, like most of the Greek world.

"Forget him," Circe said. "Join me and learn the ways of sorcery."

"I-"

"Anaea, think about it!" Circe rose to her feet, clapping sharply.

I hate being called by my full name. If she hadn't turned me against her by turning Luke into a rodent, she would have by using that damn name. Talk about bitches.

"You're the first mortal daughter of Poseidon in history," she continued, pacing back and forth while waving her hands. "Your power and potential is doubtlessly unmatched. As the child of the Great Prophecy, you can bring the world to its' knees. Be a goddess. Accept my offer and become my apprentice! Nothing will stand in your way of gaining whatever you desire!"

I glanced away, thinking furiously. I had to figure out a way to get Luke, and get off this dumb islands of brainless barbies. And then I had to burn this dress.

"Can I have a moment to think in private?" I asked. "It's a lot to take in. I would never have guessed that someone as famous and amazing as you would offer me a chance like this."

Maybe I was over-doing it a bit, but, well. Circe was an immortal. In my experience, they had high opinions of themselves, and the impression that having their attention was every mere mortal's heart's desire.

"Of course," Circe smiled. "I know how honoured you must be that I would deign to offer you my aid. Take your time." She waited, folding her hands, and I bit back a growl of frustration.

"In private," I added.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh, of course. I'll go and check on dinner while you think it over." With that, she strode out of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief despite hearing the sound of the lock being engaged, and I rushed over to the cage of guinea pigs.

"All right, which one is you?" I groaned. I cursed. There were at least a dozen, and all of them looked the same! How in the Fates' names was I supposed to figure out which one was Luke?

They all squealed, making it worse. I scanned the room and spotted the cuff of Luke's jeans sticking out from under the loom. An idea sparked, and I rushed over and began rummaged through his pockets. Finally, I yanked out the bottle of vitamins, and scrambled back over to the cage.

"Oh, this is gonna go so badly," I groaned to myself, unscrewing the top and dumping the entire jar into the cage. I saved one, shoving it into my mouth, just in case it could help at all. A second later, the door re-opened and Circe, Hylla and Reyna all entered.

Circe's eyes widened at the scene that greeted her. "You stupid girl!" she cried. "What have you just done?"

I scrambled up, summoning my sword and twisting my heel on the godsdamned shoe. But before I could say or do anything else, the cage broke. The guinea pigs all grew into various men. Naked men, to be more specific. Including Luke. I yelped and looked away, feeling my face go bright red.

"You witch!" One of the men roared. "You are going to pay for what you've done! I am Blackbeard, and I will have my revenge!"

Holy fuck, _the_ Blackbeard?

"N, now, Edward," Circe stammered, waving her hands at him. Hylla grabbed her sister and pulled her out of the room as the sorceress back away.

"Arrgghh!" the pirates yelled. They began to race after her, somehow holding swords, and Circe turned to run, tripping over her dress.

I was still looking away, so I nearly beheaded Luke when he grabbed my arm without warning me. "Woah, Ariel," he chuckled. "Relax. Thanks for the save, by the way."

"No problem," I squeaked, still not looking at him. My ankle was throbbing, but I figured that running was still fine. Adrenaline is the best thing in existence, I swear on Olympus' name.

"Ana, what's wrong?" he asked, sounding worried. "Did something-"

"You're naked!"

He was silent for a moment, before he moved away, and I heard him grabbing his clothes. "Uh, I have a suggestion, Ariel," he chuckled nervously. "Let's never, ever, tell my siblings about this. Like, ever. Okay, safe to look now."

"We should go," I said, making no promises not to tell the whole camp about this particular adventure.

He gave me, or rather, my outfit, a sceptical look. "Dressed like that?"

"I don't exactly have time to change," I snapped back. "Now, c'mon. I don't want to have to fight a couple dozen pirates, do you?"

"Good point," he nodded. "Let's go."

We ran down the hillside through the terraces, past the screaming spa residents and the pirates ransacking the resort. Blackbeard's men broke the tiki torches for the luau, threw various herbal wraps into the swimming pool, and kicked over the tables piled with sauna towels.

I almost felt bad letting the unruly pirates out, but I guessed that they deserved something more entertaining than the exercise wheel after being cooped up in a cage for three centuries.

"Which ship?" Luke said as we reached the docks.

I looked around desperately. We couldn't very well take our rowboat. We had to get off the island fast, but what else could we use? A sub? I didn't know if I could control one of those, and no way in Punishment was I going on a _jet,_ even if one of us _could_ manage to fly it. And then I saw it.

"There," I said firmly, pointing it out.

Luke looked doubtful. "But—"

"I can make it work."

"How?"

I couldn't explain. I just somehow knew that an old sailing vessel was the best bet for me. I grabbed Luke's hand and pulled her toward the three-mast ship. Painted on its' prow was the name that I would only manage to decipher later: _The Queen Anne's Revenge_. One of the most famous ships in history.

"Argggh!" Blackbeard yelled somewhere behind us. "Those scalawags are a-boarding me vessel! Get 'em, lads!"

"We'll never get going in time!" Luke yelled as we climbed aboard.

I looked around at the hopeless maze of sail and ropes. The ship was in great condition for a three-hundred-year-old vessel, but it would still take a crew of fifty several hours to get underway.

There were two of us and we didn't have several hours. I could see the pirates running down the stairs, waving tiki torches and sticks of celery.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the waves lapping against the hull, the ocean currents, the winds all around me. Suddenly, the right word appeared in my mind. "Mizzenmast!" I yelled.

"Bless you!" Luke yelled back as the air was filled with whistling sounds of ropes being snapped taut, canvases unfurling, and wooden pulleys creaking.

Luke ducked a cable flew over his head and wrapped itself around the bowsprit.

"Ana, how …"

I didn't have an answer, but I could feel the ship responding to me as if it were part of my body. I willed the sails to rise as easily as if I were flexing my arm. I willed the rudder to turn.

The _Queen Anne's Revenge_ lurched away from the dock, and by the time the pirates arrived at the water's edge, we were already underway, sailing into the Sea of Monsters.


	12. Sirens

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Twelve**

 **Swimming with the Sirens**

Save for swordfighting, nothing had ever come to me so naturally before. Actually, I think this was even easier than fighting, which was a shock.

The _Queen Anne's Revenge_ responded to my every command. I knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. We ploughed through the waves at what I figured was about ten knots. I even understood how fast that was. For a sailing ship, pretty fucking fast. In fact, if I hadn't been on it, the old ship would have broken into a million pieces from the strain of moving so quickly.

It all felt perfect—the wind in my face, the waves breaking over the prow.

But now that we were out of danger, all I could think about was how much I missed Tyson, and how worried I was about Grover.

And I couldn't get over how badly I'd messed up on Circe's Island. Yes, I had saved Luke, but at what cost? I thought of Reyna and Hylla, and how I'd just destroyed their lives and their homes, all in one day. I doubted they knew how to fight properly. Even if they were demigods, you still needed a certain amount of training to overcome strong opponents. What would the pirates, the worst crew to ever sail, do to a pair of pretty young girls? The dark thoughts ran through my mind, and I forced myself to concentrate on controlling the ship instead of Circe's island.

We sailed all through the night. Luke fell asleep after a few hours, but the energy I got from the sea kept me wide awake. I watched the horizon. More than once I spotted monsters, bracing myself to be attacked each time.

A plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight. A row of green spines slithered across the waves—something maybe a hundred feet long, reptilian. I didn't really want to know.

Once I saw Nereids, the glowing lady spirits of the sea. I tried to wave at them, because I genuinely liked water spirits, regardless of Silena's feud with them. But they disappeared into the depths of the ocean, leaving me unsure of whether or not they had seen me.

Sometime after midnight, Luke woke up again. We were just passing a smoking volcano island. The sea bubbled and steamed around the shore.

"One of the forges of Hephaestus," Luke said, pointing at it. "Where he makes his metal monsters."

"Automatons?"

He nodded. "Go around. Far around."

I didn't need to be told twice. We steered clear of the island, and soon it was just a red patch of haze behind us.

I looked at Luke. "The reason you hate Cyclopes so much … the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?"

It was hard to see his expression in the dark. But I knew Luke, and I knew how he got when it came to his taboo subjects, so I could give a pretty good guess.

"I guess you deserve to know," he said finally. "When Grover was taking us to camp, he got confused, ended up taking some wrong turns. You remember he told you that once?"

I nodded, staying silent.

"Well, the worst wrong turn was into a Cyclops's lair in Brooklyn."

"Shit," I said frankly. I thought his lips might have twitched slightly, but it was hard to tell in the dark.

"No kidding, but anyway. This Cyclops, he tricked us. He managed to split us up inside this maze of corridors in an old house in Flatbush. And he could sound like anyone, Ana. Just like Tyson did aboard the _Princess Andromeda_. He lured us, one at a time. Thalia thought she was running to save me. I thought that I heard Annabeth scream for help. And Annabeth … she was alone in the dark. She was seven years old. She couldn't even find the exit."

He looked away, running a hand through his gold curls. I could imagine the pained anger on his face as he told me. "Thalia, Grover and I were tied up and gagged, hanging from the ceiling like smoked hams in a butcher's shop, or something.

Annabeth stumbled on the main room, and gods, Ana. I was so terrified for her. The Cyclops was starting a fire in the middle of the floor. She drew her knife, but he heard her. He turned and smiled. He spoke, and somehow he knew her dad's voice. I guess he just plucked it out of her mind. He said, 'Now, Annabeth, don't you worry. I love you. You can stay here with me. You can stay forever.'"

I shivered. It was a horrifying picture, but one that I could easily imagine. I had been in a Cyclops' lair myself, after all. During Christmas. Thank the gods for Silena insisting on the five of us (her, me, Clarisse, Katie and Lou Ellen) all going Christmas shopping together. It would not have ended well if I'd been forced to deal with Ma Gasket and her two crazy sons by myself. I got why Luke hated them so much, even if Tyson hadn't deserved it.

"What happened?"

"Annabeth stabbed him in the foot."

I stared at him in shock. "Are you kidding? She was seven years old and she stabbed a grown Cyclops in the foot?"

"Oh, he would've killed her. But she surprised him. It gave her just enough time to run to Thalia and cut the ropes on her hands. Thalia took it from there."

"Still," I murmured. "That was impressive."

He gave a bitter smile. "We barely got out alive. I still have nightmares, Ana. It was his fault we took so long getting to camp. All the monsters who'd been chasing us had time to catch up, and I was wounded. That's really why Thalia died. If it hadn't been for that Cyclops, she'd still be alive today."

There was nothing else to be said, so we just sat on the deck, watching the Hercules constellation rise in the night sky.

"Go to bed," Luke told me eventually. "You need some rest."

I nodded. My eyes were heavy, and I needed energy to fight Polyphemus tomorrow. But when I got below and found a hammock, it took me a long time to fall asleep. I kept thinking about Luke's story. I wondered what would have happened if Thalia had survived. Would I still be the Prophecy Child? Selfishly, I wished that the daughter of Zeus was the one forced to hold the weight of the world on her shoulders. I sure as hell didn't feel up to saving the world, no matter that I had technically done so already, last summer.

For the first time in days, I didn't dream about Grover.

Instead I found myself back in the stateroom aboard the Princess Andromeda. The curtains were open. It was night-time outside. The air swirled with shadows. Voices whispered all around me—spirits of the dead.

 _Beware,_ they whispered. _Traps. Trickery._

My fingers itched for Anaklusmos, even though I knew that it was a dream, and I could do nothing to affect my surroundings. Kronos's golden sarcophagus glowed faintly—the only source of light in the room.

A cold laugh startled me. It seemed to come from miles below the ship. _You don't have the courage, young one. You can't stop me._

I knew what I had to do. I had to open that coffin.

I summoned Anaklusmos. Ghosts whirled around me like a tornado. _Beware!_

My heart pounded. I couldn't make my feet move, but I had to stop Kronos. I had to destroy whatever was in that box.

Then a girl spoke right next to me: "Well, Kelp Head?"

I looked over, inhaling sharply as I recognized her. She wore punk-style clothes with silver chains on her wrists. She had spiky black hair, dark eyeliner around her stormy blue eyes, and a spray of freckles across her nose. I had seen her in one of Luke's old photos. Thalia, Daughter of Zeus.

"Well?" she asked. "Are we going to stop him or not?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't move.

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Fine. Leave it to me and Aegis."

She tapped her wrist and her silver chains transformed— flattening and expanding into a huge shield. It was silver and bronze, with the monstrous face of Medusa protruding from the centre. It looked like a death mask, as if the gorgon's real head had been pressed into the metal. Luke had mentioned that Thalia had a replica of it, once.

I didn't know if that was true, or if the shield could really petrify me, but I looked away. Just being near it made me cold with fear. I got a feeling that in a real fight, the bearer of that shield would be almost impossible to beat. Any sane enemy would turn and run.

Thalia turned her mace canister into a spear and advanced on the sarcophagus. The shadowy ghosts parted for her, scattering before the terrible sight and aura of her shield.

"No," I tried to warn her.

But she didn't listen. She marched straight up to the sarcophagus and pushed aside the golden lid.

For a moment she stood there, gazing down at whatever was in the box.

The coffin began to glow.

"No." Thalia's voice trembled. "It can't be."

From the depths of the ocean, Kronos laughed so loudly the whole ship trembled.

"No!" Thalia screamed in horror, just as the sarcophagus engulfed her in a blast of a golden light.

"Ah!" I sat bolt upright in my hammock.

Luke was shaking me. "Ana, you were having a nightmare. You need to get up."

"Wh—what is it?" I rubbed my eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Land," he said grimly. "We're approaching the island of the Sirens."

I could barely make out the island ahead of us—just a dark spot in the mist.

I remembered stories about the Sirens. They sang so sweetly their voices enchanted sailors and lured them to their death.

"It's no problem," Luke assured me. "We can just stop up our ears. There's a big tub of candle wax below deck—"

"I want to hear them."

He blinked, staring at me like I was a lunatic. "Why?"

"They say the Sirens sing the truth about what you desire," I pointed out, remembering Chiron's lecture. "They tell you things about yourself you didn't even realize. That's what's so enchanting. I want to hear them. How often will I get that chance? Besides, _I_ can't drown."

"Ana," he groaned. "This is insane. You can still die."

"I want to do this," I insisted. "You're my friend, you should respect my decisions."

"As your friend, I should prevent you from committing suicide," he retorted.

I glared at him, setting my jaw in a stubborn position and making him swear. "If you don't help me, I'll tell everyone back home about you getting turned into a guinea pig," I threatened.

He cursed at me, and I took that as agreement. I told him my plan. Reluctantly, he helped me get ready.

As the rocky coastline of the island came into view, Luke gagged me and used one of the ropes to tie me to the foremast.

"I'll make sure that you stay there," he promised. Then he took two large wads of candle wax, kneaded them into earplugs, and stuffed his ears.

I nodded sarcastically at him, letting him know that the earplugs were a real fashion statement. Silena would have thrown a fit the sight of him.

He made a face at me and turned to the pilot's wheel.

At first there was an eerie silence. I couldn't hear anything but the waves, slapping against the boat. As we approached the island, jagged rocks loomed out of the fog. I willed the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ to skirt around them. If we sailed any closer, those rocks would shred our hull like blender blades.

That was when the music started. It was the most beautiful, haunting thing I had ever heard. Even more entrancing than the Apollo kids back at Camp. But it was what I saw that mattered. Standing on the beach, that was now beautiful and clean, was my mother and Tyson, my friends standing behind them. She was smiling that loving smile reserved just me, and waving for me to come over.

I took no notice of the fact that Luke was both steering the ship and standing on the beach. I ignored that the beach had been rocky and full of human bones and was now almost a paradise.

"Ana, baby," Mom called to me. "Come and join us, honey."

The only thing I could think of was getting to the island. I thrashed desperately against my restraints, frantically trying to escape. Then, I felt my pin reappear in my hair. Luke had taken it away when he tied me up, but now I had it back. Excitedly, I used all the tricks I had learned from my Cabin Eleven friends to get one of my arms free. Once my sword was in my grasp, I quickly sliced off the ropes, and ran to the side of the boat.

I distantly heard someone calling my name, but the beautiful singing and the sight of my mother and brother drowned it out. I jumped off the boat, landing in the water with a splash.

For a second, as I was underwater, I felt my clarity return. Then my head broke the surface again, and I was caught by the wonderful vision once again. I propelled myself forward determinedly, keeping my head above the water. When I went under, I lost sight of Mom and Tyson, and I didn't like that.

I heard a splash, and some swearing combined with more splashing, but I ignored it all. The only thing that mattered was getting to my family. Only that.

Suddenly, I felt someone grab my ankle, pulling me to a stop. I flailed wildly, my eyes fixed on Mom and Tyson, waving me closer to them.

"Sister!" Tyson cheered, holding up a small silver horse. "Look what I made! Come and see it!"

I lashed out with my free ankle, slamming it into the person stopping my progress. They let go with a loud curse, and I was free to keep swimming towards my family once again. Then whoever was trying to stop me grabbed my ankle again, and yanked me under the water. Instantly, my head began to clear. I shook it wildly, wondering what in Olympus' name had made me believe that swimming to an island covered in bones was a good idea. Oh yes. My heart's desire. Mom.

Abruptly, I realized that Luke must have been the one to stop me, and I turned around, trying to see him. My heart sank to my stomach when I spotted him. He was slowly sinking downwards, bubbles coming from his mouth, his limbs flailing unconsciously around him, and his eyes half-closed.

I swam towards him and grabbed him. Instinct must have kicked in for him, because he was clearly unconscious even as he fought to breathe as bubbles rose around us.

Bubbles.

I was desperate. I had to keep Luke alive. I imagined all the bubbles in the sea—always churning, rising. I imagined them coming together, being pulled toward me and Luke.

The sea obeyed. There was a flurry of white, a tickling sensation all around me, and when my vision cleared, Luke and I had a huge bubble of air around us. Only our legs stuck into the water.

Fish gathered to look at us—a school of barracudas, some curious marlins.

 _Scram!_ I told them.

They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear that I knew what they were going to do.

They were about to start rumours flying around the sea about the daughter of Poseidon and some guy at the bottom of Siren Bay. I didn't care if I got a reputation for being a slut in the sea world, however. I had a best friend to save.

Concentrating, I sent us speeding towards the ship, doing my best to rid his lungs of water in the process. It worked, but Luke went still, and his face was covered in blood from the nose that I had broken. He was developing two black eyes. Once we were right beneath the ship, I did double duty, sending the ship moving whilst keeping Luke and I with it, still in the air bubble, at the same time.

Eventually, when I deemed us far enough away from the Sirens, I got Luke out of the water, back onto the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ , and ran to find our supply of ambrosia. I nearly cried in relief when I saw his eyes open, his crooked nose straightening. He glanced around, wetting his lips.

"Gods of Olympus, Ariel," he croaked at me. "No matter what everyone says about your archery, you have damn good aim."

"I'm so sorry," I moaned, my hands fluttering helplessly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he promised, sitting up. "I've got a hard head. You okay?"

"Fine," I agreed, nodding shortly. I debated saying that I should have listened to him, but. Well, I may have a _slight_ problem with admitting it when I'm wrong. I decided not to, and changed the subject.

"How did you manage to catch up to me so fast?"

Swimming was _not_ one of Luke's strengths. In fact, he could barely do a basic breast stroke, and that was only because Camp rules demanded all half-bloods learn a basic level of swimming.

He shrugged, giving me a hooded look. "Well, I spent a moment splashing around like an idiot, right after jumping in," he told me lightly. "Then it was like something helped me speed forward, 'til I was right behind you."

He gave me a knowing look, but I couldn't meet his gaze. My father had helped Luke save my life. How in Tartarus was I supposed to react to something like that? It put me completely off-kilter.

I looked around, reaching up to tug my salt-water tangled hair into a messy braid rather than answering. Thankfully, Luke didn't push. The afternoon was quiet except for the sound of the waves against the hull. The fog had burned away to a blue sky, as if the island of the Sirens had never existed.

"I saw," Luke admitted suddenly. I looked at him sharply, feeling my heart sink. "What the Sirens showed you. I saw it when I touched you."

I stood up sharply, going around to fuss with the wheel. "Yeah, well, it's a pipe dream," I said harshly. "M, Mom is dead. None of that's ever gonna happen." I cursed my stutter. I hated showing my vulnerable side, even to Luke. He didn't reply for a moment, staying quiet.

"Was it worth it?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice soft.

We were quiet for a while after that. Luke kept a lookout, while I leant against the mast, brooding over my mother. What would she think of me now, running around like some protagonist from a fantasy novel?

Suddenly Luke's eyes widened. "Ana."

I looked up.

Up ahead was another blotch of land—a saddle-shaped island with forested hills and white beaches and green meadows—just like I'd seen in my dreams.

My nautical senses confirmed it. 30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west.

We had reached the home of Polyphemus.


	13. Woolly Feelings

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

**I Get a Woolly Feeling**

When you think "monster island," you think craggy rocks and bones scattered on the beach like the island of the Sirens. Right?

Well, Polyphemus' island was nothing like that. I mean, okay, it had a rope bridge across a chasm, which was not a good sign. You might as well put up a billboard that said, SOMETHING EVIL LIVES HERE. But except for that, the place looked like a Caribbean postcard. It had green fields and tropical fruit trees and white beaches. As we sailed toward the shore, Luke breathed in the sweet air. "The Fleece," he said, his voice almost reverent.

I nodded. I couldn't see the Fleece yet, but I could feel its' power. I could believe it would heal anything. Even Thalia's poisoned tree.

"If we take it away, will the island die?"

Luke shook his head. "I don't think so. It should fade. Go back to what it would be normally, whatever that is."

I felt a little guilty about ruining this paradise, (on top of Circe's island), but I reminded myself we had no choice. Camp Half-Blood was in trouble. And Tyson … Tyson would still be with us if it wasn't for this quest. The least I could do was make sure that his sacrifice wasn't in vain.

In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. They looked peaceful enough, but they were _huge._ I mean they were like the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was the massive oak tree I'd seen in my dreams. Something gold glittered in its' branches.

"This is too easy," I said, suspicion oozing from me. "We just hike up there and take it? No way, nothing's ever that simple."

Luke's eyes narrowed. He looked as wary I felt. "Didn't the Cyclops say something about a pet in your dream?"

That was when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves.

Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air.

A second later the sheep all moved away, back to their regular peaceful wanderings. Where the deer had been was a pile of clean white bones. I felt bile rise in my throat at the horrifying sight.

Luke and I exchanged looks.

"They're like piranhas," he grimaced, looking ill.

"Piranhas with wool. How will we—"

"Ariel!" Luke gasped abruptly, grabbing my arm. "Look."

He pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground … the other lifeboat from the _CSS Birmingham_.

We decided that there was no way we could get past the man-eating sheep. Luke wanted to fly over and grab the Fleece, but in the end I convinced him that something would go wrong. The sheep would smell him. Another guardian would appear. Something. And if that happened, I'd be too far away to help. No way could I go into the air with him, after all. Zeus would murder me straight away, and Luke would be collateral damage. No, we had to figure out another plan.

Besides all of that, our first job was to find Grover and whoever had come ashore in that lifeboat—assuming they'd gotten past the sheep. I was too nervous to say what I was secretly hoping … that Tyson might still be alive.

We moored the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet. I figured the ship was less likely to be seen there. The cliffs looked climbable, barely—about as difficult as the lava wall back at camp. At least it was free of sheep. I hoped that Polyphemus didn't keep carnivorous mountain goats too.

We rowed a lifeboat to the edge of the rocks and made our way up, very slowly. Luke went first because he was the better climber, and had the flying ability.

We only came close to dying six or seven times, which I thought was pretty good. Once, I lost my grip and I found myself dangling by one hand from a ledge fifty feet above the rocky surf.

But I found another handhold and kept climbing. A minute later Luke hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, he found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.

"Sorry," he muttered with a wince.

"You owe me a really amazing present Castellan," I grumbled back. "Or else everyone in Camp finds out about Luke the Guinea Pig."

"Noted."

Finally, when my fingers felt like molten lead and my arm muscles were shaking from exhaustion, we hauled ourselves over the top of the cliff and collapsed.

"Ugh," I mumbled into the grass. It smelt freshly cut.

"Ouch," moaned Luke.

"Garrr!" bellowed another voice.

If I hadn't been so tired, I would've leaped another two hundred feet. I managed to scramble up and whirled around, but I couldn't see who'd spoken.

Luke clamped his hand over my mouth and pointed.

The ledge we were sitting on was narrower than I'd realized. It dropped off on the opposite side, and that's where the voice was coming from—right below us.

"You're a feisty one!" the deep voice bellowed.

"Challenge me!" Clarisse's voice, no doubt about it. Thank the gods, she was still alive. Though maybe not for long if she didn't shut up. "Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!"

The monster roared with laughter.

Luke and I crept to the edge. We were right above the entrance of the cave.

Below us stood Polyphemus and Grover, still in his wedding dress. Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water. I was half hoping to see Tyson down there, too. Even if he'd been in danger, at least I would've known he was alive. But there was no sign of him. I forced myself to push it away, and focus on my living friends.

"Hmm," Polyphemus pondered. "Eat loudmouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?"

He turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his completed bridal train. "Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps—"

"Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded. "Who— Grover?"

"Shut up," I muttered desperately. I loved Clarisse, but did have to so damn hotheaded? I blamed Ares. "She has to shut up."

Polyphemus glowered. "What 'Grover'?"

"The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

"Oh!" Grover yelped. "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

Polyphemus' eyelids narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly.

The Cyclops was an even more horrible sight than he had been in my dreams. Partly because his rancid smell was now up close and personal. Partly because he was dressed in his wedding outfit—a crude kilt and shoulder-wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedoes, as if he had skinned an entire wedding party. Oh, bad image, bad image!

"What satyr?" asked Polyphemus. "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

"No, you big idiot!" bellowed Clarisse. "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!"

I wanted to wring Clarisse's neck, as much as I loved her, but it was too late. All I could do was watch as Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil—revealing his curly hair, his scruffy adolescent beard, his tiny horns.

Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger. "I don't see very well," he growled.

"Not since many years ago when the other hero stabbed me in eye. But YOU'RE—NO—LADY—CYCLOPS!"

The Cyclops grabbed Grover's dress and tore it away. Underneath, the old Grover reappeared in his jeans and T-shirt. He yelped and ducked as the monster swiped over his head.

"Stop!" Grover pleaded. "Don't eat me raw! I—I have a good recipe!"

I reached for my sword, but Luke stopped me. "Wait!"

Polyphemus was hesitating, a large boulder clutched in his hand, ready to smash his would-be bride into a million furry pieces.

"Recipe?" he asked Grover.

"Oh y-yes! You don't want to eat me raw. You'll get E coli and botulism and all sorts of horrible things. I'll taste much better grilled over a slow fire. With mango chutney! You could go get some mangos right now, down there in the woods. I'll just wait here."

The monster pondered this. My heart hammered against my ribs. I figured I'd die if I charged.

But I couldn't let the monster kill Grover and Clarisse.

"Grilled satyr with mango chutney," Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. "You a satyr, too?"

"No, you overgrown pile of dung!" she yelled. "I'm a girl! The daughter of Ares! Now untie me so I can rip your arms off!"

"Rip my arms off," Polyphemus repeated.

"And stuff them down your throat!"

"You got spunk."

"Let me down!"

Polyphemus snatched up Grover as if he were a wayward puppy. "Have to graze sheep now. Wedding postponed until tonight. Then we will eat satyr with mango chutney for the main course!"

"But … you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt. I slammed my head on the ground in frustration and Luke muttered an oath as we both realized where this was going. "Who's the bride?"

Polyphemus looked toward the boiling pot.

Clarisse made a strangled sound. "Oh, no! You can't be serious. I'm not—"

Before Luke or I could do anything, Polyphemus plucked her off the rope like she was a ripe apple, and tossed her and Grover deep into the cave. "Make yourself comfortable! I come back at sundown for big event!"

Then the Cyclops whistled, and a mixed flock of goats and sheep—smaller than the man-eaters—flooded out of the cave and past their master. As they went to pasture, Polyphemus patted some on the back and called them by name—Beltbuster, Tammany, Lockhart, etc.

When the last sheep had waddled out, Polyphemus rolled a boulder in front of the doorway as easily as I would close a refrigerator door, shutting off the sound of Clarisse and Grover screaming inside.

"Mangos," Polyphemus grumbled to himself. "What are mangos?"

He strolled off down the mountain in his baby-blue groom's outfit, leaving us alone with a pot of boiling water and a six-ton boulder.

We tried for what seemed like hours, but it was no good. The boulder wouldn't move. We yelled into the cracks, tapped on the rock, did everything we could think of to get a signal to Grover, but if he heard us, we couldn't tell.

Even if by some miracle we managed to kill Polyphemus, it wouldn't do us any good. Grover and Clarisse would die inside that sealed cave. The only way to move the rock was to have the Cyclops do it.

In total frustration, I stabbed Riptide against the boulder. Sparks flew, but nothing else happened. A large rock is not the kind of enemy you can fight with a magic sword. That seriously pissed me off. I mean come on, what am I supposed to do with a boulder as an enemy? That's just not fair!

Luke and I sat on the ridge in despair and watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks. He had wisely divided his regular animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island. The only way across was the rope bridge, and the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

We watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side. Unfortunately, they didn't eat him. In fact, they didn't seem to bother him at all. He fed them chunks of mystery meat from a great wicker basket, which made me feel like I should join Grover and became a vegetarian.

"Trickery," Luke decided. "We can't beat him by force, so we'll have to use trickery." Easy for him to say. His father was literally the god of tricks.

"Okay," I agreed. "What trick?" If anyone was making a plan for tricks, it would have to be Luke, because I was more of an on-the-spot thinker. Besides, there's that quote 'No plan survives first contact with the enemy.' I'm really better off just going with my instincts.

"Uh, gimme a moment."

"Oh, go ahead. We've got time, after all. Not like our friends' lives and virtues are at stake, or anything. Go on, why not have a nap for a while?"

Luke shot me a half-annoyed, half-embarrassed look, which I met with my typical expression of defiance.

"Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside," he mused.

"At sunset," I confirmed. "Which is when he'll marry Clarisse and have Grover for dinner. I'm not sure which is more horrifying."

"The sheep," Luke muttered. He gave me one of those sly looks that always made me wary. "How much do you like sheep?"

"Just don't let go!" Luke urged me from wherever it was that he was hidden. Easy for him to say, he wasn't hanging upside down from the belly of a sheep.

Oh, I was so going to tell everybody about the guinea pig thing. At least if we lived. If we didn't, I'd at least tell Grover and Clarisse.

Now, I'll admit that it wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. I'd crawled under a car before to-, well, for various reasons, and this wasn't too different. The sheep didn't care. Even the Cyclops's smallest sheep were big enough to support my weight, and they had thick wool. I just twirled the stuff into handles for my hands, hooked my feet against the sheep's thigh bones, and presto—I felt like a baby wallaby, riding around against the sheep's chest, trying to keep the wool out of my mouth and my nose.

In case you're wondering, the underside of a sheep doesn't smell that great. Imagine a winter sweater that's been dragged through the mud and left in the laundry hamper for a week.

Something like that. Gods, I hate my life.

The sun was starting to go down, and no sooner was I in position than the Cyclops roared, "Oy! Goaties! Sheepies!"

The flock dutifully began trudging back up the slopes toward the cave.

"Good luck," Luke muttered too me.

"Right back atacha," I replied as my sheep taxi started plodding up the hill. After a hundred yards, my hands and feet started to hurt from holding on. I gripped the sheep's wool more tightly, and the animal made a grumbling sound. I didn't blame it. I wouldn't want anybody rock climbing in my hair either. But if I didn't hold on, I was sure I'd fall off right there in front of the monster.

"Hasenpfeffer!" the Cyclops said, patting one of the sheep in front of me. "Einstein! Widget—eh there, Widget!"

Polyphemus patted my sheep and nearly knocked me to the ground. "Putting on some extra mutton there?"

Shit, I thought. Here it comes.

But Polyphemus just laughed and swatted the sheep's rear end, propelling us forward. "Go on, fatty! Soon Polyphemus will eat you for breakfast!"

And then, just like that, I was in the cave.

I could see the last of the sheep coming inside. If Luke didn't pull off his distraction soon…

The Cyclops was about to roll the stone back into place, when from somewhere outside Luke shouted, "Hey, ugly!"

Polyphemus stiffened. "Who said that?"

"Nobody!" Luke yelled.

That got exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. The monster's face turned a splotchy red with rage.

"Nobody!" Polyphemus yelled back. "I remember you!"

"You're too stupid to remember anybody," Luke taunted. "Much less Nobody."

I hoped to the gods that he was already moving when he said that, because Polyphemus bellowed furiously, grabbed the nearest boulder (which happened to be his front door) and threw it with all his strength (at least I hoped it was all of his strength). I heard the rock smash into a thousand fragments.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Luke shouted, "You haven't learned to throw any better, either!"

Polyphemus howled. "Come here! Let me kill you, Nobody!"

"You can't kill Nobody, you stupid oaf," he taunted, voice full of mockery. "Come find me!"

Polyphemus barrelled down the hill toward his voice.

Now, the "Nobody" thing wouldn't have made sense to most people, but Luke had explained to me that it was the name Odysseus had used to trick Polyphemus centuries ago, right before he poked the Cyclops's eye out with a large hot stick. We both figured that Polyphemus would still have a grudge about that name, and we were right.

In his frenzy to find his old enemy, he forgot about resealing the cave entrance. Apparently, he didn't even stop to consider that Luke's voice was coming from above him, not level with. On the other hand, he'd wanted to marry Grover, so he couldn't have been all that bright.

I just hoped that Luke could stay alive and keep distracting him long enough for me to find Grover and Clarisse.

I dropped off my ride, patted Widget on the head, and apologized. I searched the main room, but there was no sign of Grover or Clarisse. I pushed through the crowd of sheep and goats toward the back of the cave.

Even though I'd dreamed about this place, I had a hard time finding my way through the maze. I ran down corridors littered with bones, past rooms full of sheepskin rugs and life-size cement sheep that I recognized as the work of Medusa. There were collections of sheep T-shirts; large tubs of lanolin cream; and woolly coats, socks, and hats with ram's horns. Finally, I found the spinning room, where Grover was huddled in the corner, trying to cut Clarisse's bonds with a pair of safety scissors.

"It's no good," Clarisse said. "This rope is like iron!"

"Just a few more minutes!"

"Grover," she cried, exasperated. "You've been working at it for hours!"

And then they saw me.

"Ana?" Clarisse said. "You're alive!"

"Good to see you, too. Now hold still while I—"

"Aaannnaaa!" Grover bleated and tackled me with a goat-hug. "You heard me! You came!"

"Yeah, buddy," I said, patting him fondly on the back. "Of course I came."

"Where's Luke?"

"Outside," I said. "But there's no time to talk. Clarisse, hold still."

I uncapped Riptide and sliced off her ropes. She stood stiffly, rubbing her wrists. She glared at me for a moment, then looked at the ground and mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I said. "Now, was anyone else on board your lifeboat?"

Clarisse looked surprised and a bit confused at the question. "No. It was just me. Everybody else aboard the _Birmingham_ … well, I didn't even know you guys made it out."

I looked down, trying not to believe that my last hope of seeing Tyson alive had just been crushed. "Okay. Come on, then. We have to help—"

An explosion echoed through the cave, followed by a scream that told me we might be too late. It was Luke crying out.


	14. Somebody

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO. Btw, to the guest who insulted my 'bashing' of various characters, if you don't like a story, just don't read it. But for god's sake, don't go around sending rude, insulting emails to the writer for your own twisted enjoyment. Asshole. Annabeth being the evil one in fem!Percy stories isn't exactly unique to my story, I know she's OOC, deal.**

 **Sorry to everyone else, it just really pisses me off when I get reviews like that, full of rudeness and flames.**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

 **Somebody Gets the Golden Fleece**

"I got Nobody!" Polyphemus gloated loudly.

We crept to the cave entrance and saw the Cyclops, grinning wickedly, holding Luke by his ankle. Luke was hanging upside down by his legs, and he had an awful looking cut on his forehead. One of his shoes' wings was torn off and lying limply on the ground at Polyphemus' feet.

"Hah!" the Cyclops said. "Nasty flying boy! Gonna grill you with mango chutney!"

Luke struggled, but he looked dazed. His eyes were glassy. A concussion was the best case scenario. I hope it was only a concussion, and I suddenly wished that Will was here. He'd know at a glance what was wrong with Luke.

"I'll rush him," I whispered to Clarisse. "Our ship is around the back of the island. You and Grover—"

"No way," they said at the same time. Clarisse had armed herself with a highly collectible rams-horn spear from the Cyclops' cave. Grover had found a sheep's thigh bone, which he didn't look too happy about, but he was gripping it like a club, ready to attack.

"We'll take him together," Clarisse growled.

"Yeah," Grover said. Then he blinked, like he couldn't believe he'd just agreed with Clarisse about something. I could hardly believe either. Grover was a pacifist. He didn't tend to get along with the bloodthirsty Ares children.

"All right," I agreed, as there was no time to argue. "Attack plan Macedonia."

They nodded. We'd all taken the same training courses at Camp Half-Blood. They knew what I was talking about. They would sneak around either side and attack the Cyclops from the flanks while I held his attention in the front. Probably what this meant was that we'd all die instead of just me, but I was grateful for the help.

I hefted my sword and shouted, "Hey, Asshole!"

The giant whirled toward me. "Another one? Who are you?"

"Put down my friend. I'm the one who insulted you."

"You are Nobody?"

"That's right, you blind old sot!" I didn't actually know what an 'old sot' was, but I'd heard the insult once when I was ten, like the twefth time I'd run away from the system, and I'd become fond of it. Besides, Polyphemus obviously didn't understand it either. "I'm Nobody and I'm proud of it! Now, put him down and get over here. I want to stab your eye out again."

"RAAAR!" he bellowed.

The good news: he dropped Luke. The bad news: he dropped him headfirst onto the rocks, where he lay as motionless as a rag doll, blood pooling around his head in a horrific crimson halo.

The other bad news: Polyphemus barrelled toward me, a thousand smelly pounds of Cyclops that I would have to fight with what suddenly seemed to be a very small sword.

"For Pan!" Grover rushed in from the right. He threw his sheep bone, which bounced harmlessly off the monster's forehead. Clarisse ran in from the left and set her spear against the ground just in time for the Cyclops to step on it. He wailed in pain, and Clarisse dove out of the way to avoid getting trampled. But the Cyclops just plucked out the shaft like a large splinter and kept advancing on me.

I moved in with Anaklusmos, feeling myself slip into that zone where my instincts took over and I was focused almost entirely on the fight. Various maneuvers played themselves out rapidly in my mind as I fought.

The monster made a grab for me. I jumped aside and stabbed him in the thigh.

I was hoping to see him disintegrate, but of course, I wasn't that lucky. This particular monster was much too big and powerful.

"Get Luke!" I yelled at Grover, deflecting an attempt to grab my throat. I was pleased to see a line of golden ichor begin leaking from my swipe, though it was only a small amount, and didn't deter him at all. I liked knowing that I had made my enemies bleed before I died.

Grover rushed over and picked him up with effort while Clarisse and I worked together to try and keep Polyphemus distracted.

Clarisse was brave. Unarmed save for her semi-useless spear, she charged the Cyclops again and again. He pounded the ground, stomped at her, grabbed at her, but she was too quick. And as soon as she made an attack, I followed up by stabbing the monster in the toe or the ankle or the hand.

But we couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually we would tire or the monster would get in a lucky shot. It would only take one hit to kill us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grover carrying Luke in a fireman's hold across the rope bridge. It wouldn't have been my first choice, given the man-eating sheep on the other side, but at the moment that looked better than this side of the chasm, and it gave me an idea.

"Fall back!" I told Clarisse.

She rolled away as the Cyclops's fist smashed the olive tree beside her.

We ran for the bridge, Polyphemus right behind us. He was cut up and hobbling from so many wounds, but all we'd done was slow him down and make him mad.

"Grind you into sheep chow!" he promised. "A thousand curses on Nobody!"

"Faster!" I urged Clarisse.

We tore down the hill. The bridge was our only chance. Grover had just made it to the other side and was setting Luke down. We had to make it across, too, before the giant caught us.

"Grover!" I yelled. "Get Luke's sword!"

His eyes widened when he saw the Cyclops behind us, but he nodded like he understood. And, to my relief, I saw that he did.

As Clarisse and I scrambled across the bridge, Grover began sawing at the ropes.

The first strand went snap!

Polyphemus bounded after us, making the bridge sway wildly.

The ropes were now half cut. Clarisse and I dove for solid ground, landing beside Grover. I made a wild slash with my sword and cut the remaining ropes.

The bridge fell away into the chasm, and the Cyclops howled … with delight, because he was standing right next to us.

"Failed!" he yelled gleefully. "Nobody failed!"

Clarisse and Grover tried to charge him again, but the monster swatted them aside like they were flies. I suppose to someone his size, we were all flies.

My anger swelled. I couldn't believe I'd come this far, lost Tyson, my _baby brother_ , suffered through so much, only to fail—stopped by a big stupid monster in a baby-blue tuxedo kilt. Nobody was going to swat down my friends like that! I mean … nobody, not Nobody. Ah, you know what I mean.

Strength and anger coursed through my body. I raised my sword and attacked, completely forgetting that I was hopelessly outmatched. I jabbed the Cyclops in the belly. When he doubled over I smacked him in the nose with the hilt of my sword. I slashed and kicked and bashed in a haze of battle-fury until the next thing I knew, Polyphemus was sprawled on his back, dazed and groaning, and I was standing above him, the tip of my sword hovering over his eye.

"Uhhhhhhhh," Polyphemus moaned.

"Ana!" Grover gasped. "How did you—"

"Please, noooo!" the Cyclops moaned, pitifully staring up at me. His nose was bleeding. A tear welled in the corner of his half-blind eye. "M-m-my sheepies need me. Only trying to protect my sheep!" He began to sob.

I had won. All I had to do was stab—one quick strike. One strike, our enemy would be gone, and we would be free to grab the Fleece and save the camp. Still, I hesitated, listening to Polyphemus' cries.

"Kill him!" Clarisse yelled. "What are you waiting for?"

The Cyclops sounded so heartbroken, just like … like Tyson.

"He's a Cyclops!" Grover warned. "Don't trust him!"

I knew he was right. I knew Luke would've said the same thing. I remembered the Cyclops the girls and I had fought last winter in the Bronx.

But Polyphemus sobbed … and for the first time it sank in that he was a child of Poseidon, too. Like Tyson. Like me. How could I just kill him in cold blood?

"We only want the Fleece," I told the monster. "Will you agree to let us take it?"

"No!" Clarisse shouted. "Kill him!" I knew that she was right, but I still ignored her. Tyson was stuck in my head.

The monster sniffed. "My beautiful Fleece. Prize of my collection. Take it, cruel human. Take it and go in peace."

"I'm going to step back slowly," I told the monster. "One false move …"

Polyphemus nodded like he understood.

I stepped back … and as fast as a cobra, Polyphemus smacked me to the edge of the cliff. I flew back, landing hard and swearing in Greek. I could hear Clarisse and Grover crying out from behind the cackling Cyclops.

"Foolish mortal!" he bellowed, rising to his feet. "Want to take my Fleece? Haha! I eat you first."

He opened his enormous mouth, and I knew that his rotten molars were the last things I would ever see. I set my jaw and raised my chin defiantly, determined not to show any fear.

Then something went whoosh over my head and thump!

A rock the size of a basketball sailed into Polyphemus's throat—a perfect bullseye. The Cyclops choked, trying to swallow the unexpected pill. He staggered backward, but there was no place to stagger. His heel slipped, the edge of the cliff crumbled, and the great Polyphemus made frantic flapping motions with his arms that did nothing to help him fly as he tumbled head-over-heels into the chasm.

I turned.

Halfway down the path to the beach, standing completely unharmed in the midst of a flock of killer sheep, was one of the best sights I had ever seen.

"Bad Polyphemus," Tyson said scoldingly. "Not all Cyclopes as nice as we look."

Tyson gave us the short version: Rainbow the hippocampus—who'd apparently been following us ever since the Long Island Sound, waiting for Tyson to play with him again—had found Tyson sinking beneath the wreckage of the _CSS Birmingham_ and pulled him to safety. He and Tyson had been searching the Sea of Monsters ever since, trying to find us, until Tyson had caught the scent of sheep and found this island.

I desperately wanted to hug him and reassure myself that this was real, except he was standing in the middle of the pack of killer sheep. "Tyson, thank the gods. Luke's been hurt!"

"You thank the gods that he is hurt?" he asked, puzzled.

"No!" I knelt beside Luke and was horrified by what I saw. The gash on his forehead was worse than I'd realized. His hairline was sticky with blood. His skin was pale and clammy.

Grover and I exchanged nervous looks, and I was conscious of the fact that we had no ambrosia or nectar with us. Then an idea came to me. "Tyson, the Fleece. Can you get it for me?"

"Which one?" Tyson said, looking around at the hundreds of sheep.

"In the tree!" I replied, pointing at him urgently. "The gold one! Hurry!"

"Oh. Pretty. Yes."

Tyson lumbered over, careful not to step on the sheep. If any of us had tried to approach the Fleece, we would've been eaten alive, but I guess Tyson smelled like Polyphemus, because the flock didn't bother him at all. They just cuddled up to him and bleated affectionately, as though they expected to get sheep treats from the big wicker basket. Tyson reached up and lifted the Fleece off its' branch. Immediately the leaves on the oak tree turned yellow. Tyson started wading back toward me, but I yelled, "There's no time! Just throw it!"

The gold ram skin sailed through the air like a glittering shag Frisbee. I caught it with a grunt.

It was heavier than I'd expected—sixty or seventy pounds of precious gold wool.

I spread it over Luke, covering everything but his face, and prayed silently to all the gods I could think of, even the ones I didn't like.

 _Please. Please._

The colour returned to his face. His eyelids fluttered open. The cut on his forehead began to close, though his hair was still dark with crimson blood. He saw Grover and grinned weakly.

"You're not… married?"

Grover grinned. "No. My friends objected. Said they wouldn't give me any presents if I said I do." Luke let out a weak laugh at that, and a smile played on my lips as I continued to adjust the Fleece. Luke started trying to push himself up.

"Luke," I said, trying to press him back down. "Just stay still."

But despite our protests he sat up, and I noticed that the cut on his face was almost completely healed now. He looked a lot better, thank the gods. He almost seemed to shimmer with health, as if someone had injected him with glitter.

Meanwhile, Tyson was starting to have trouble with the sheep. "Down!" he told them as they tried to climb him, looking for food. A few were sniffing in our direction. "No, sheepies. This way! Come here!"

They heeded him, but it was obvious they were hungry, and they were starting to realize Tyson didn't have any treats for them. They wouldn't hold out forever with so much fresh meat nearby.

"We have to go," I said, beginning to feel anxious again. "Our ship is…" The _Queen Anne's Revenge_ was a very long way away. The shortest route was across the chasm, and we'd just destroyed the only bridge. The only other possibility was through the sheep. Shit.

"Tyson," I called, "can you lead the flock as far away as possible?"

"The sheep want food."

"I know! They want to have people for food! Just lead them away from the path. Give us time to get to the beach. Then join us there."

Tyson looked doubtful, but he whistled. "Come, sheepies! Um, people for food this way!"

He jogged off into the meadow, the sheep in pursuit.

"Keep the Fleece around you," I told Luke firmly. "Just in case you're not fully healed yet. Can you stand?"

He tried, but his face turned pale again. "Urrgghh. Definitely _not_ fully healed."

Clarisse dropped next to him and felt his chest, making him gasp.

"His ribs are broken," Clarisse diagnosed grimly. "They're mending, but they're definitely broken."

"Fuck," I replied promptly.

"I'll have to carry him," Clarisse declared, as she picked up Luke like a sack of flour and began to lug him down to the beach. Grover and I followed, me holding my sword at the ready, just in case.

As soon as we got to the edge of the water, I concentrated on the _Queen Anne's Revenge_. I willed it to raise anchor and come to me. After a few anxious minutes, I saw the ship rounding the tip of the island.

"Incoming!" Tyson yelled. He was bounding down the path to join us, the sheep about fifty yards behind, bleating in frustration as their Cyclops friend ran away without feeding them.

"They probably won't follow us into the water," I told the others. "All we have to do is swim for the ship."

"With Luke like this?" Clarisse protested.

"We can do it," I insisted. I was starting to feel confident again. I was back in my home turf—the sea. I could beat anything once I was in the water, I _knew_ it. "Once we get to the ship, we're home free."

We almost made it, too.

We were just wading past the entrance to the ravine, when we heard a tremendous roar and saw Polyphemus, scraped up and bruised but still very much alive, his baby-blue wedding outfit in tatters, splashing toward us with a boulder in each hand.

"You have got to be kidding me," Luke groaned, glaring at the Cyclops as Clarisse and I worked together to pull him through the water.


	15. Jumping Ship

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

 **I Jump Ship**

"You'd think he'd run out of rocks at some point," I muttered. "Especially seeing as it's not even a rocky island." I was passed being frightened by now. Now I was just seriously pissed off.

"Swim for it!" Grover cried.

He and Clarisse plunged into the surf. Luke was now hanging on to Clarisse's neck and he tried to paddle with one hand, the wet Fleece weighing them both down.

But the monster's attention wasn't on the Fleece.

"You, young Cyclops!" Polyphemus roared. "Traitor to your kind!"

Tyson froze.

"Don't listen to him!" I pleaded. "Come on."

I pulled Tyson's arm, but I might as well have been pulling a mountain. He turned and faced the older Cyclops. "I am not a traitor."

"You serve mortals!" Polyphemus shouted. "Thieving humans!"

Polyphemus threw another boulder. Tyson swatted it aside with his fist.

"Not a traitor," Tyson said. "And you are not my kind."

"That's my boy," I muttered approvingly.

"Death or victory!" Polyphemus charged into the surf, but his foot was still wounded. He immediately stumbled and fell on his face. That would've been funny, except he started to get up again, spitting salt water and growling.

"Ana!" Clarisse yelled. "Come on!"

They were almost to the ship with the Fleece. If I could just keep the monster distracted a little longer …

"Go," Tyson told me. "I will hold Big Ugly."

"No! He'll kill you." I'd already lost Tyson once. I wasn't going to lose him again. "We'll fight him together."

"Together," Tyson agreed.

I summoned my sword and fell into my preferred stance. As much as I could in the water, anyway.

Polyphemus advanced carefully, limping worse than ever. But there was nothing wrong with his throwing arm. He chucked his second boulder. I dove to one side, but I still would've been squashed if Tyson's fist hadn't blasted the rock to rubble.

I willed the sea to rise. A twenty-foot wave surged up, lifting me on its' crest. I rode toward the Cyclops and kicked him in the eye, leaping over his head as the water blasted him onto the beach.

"Destroy you!" Polyphemus spluttered. "Fleece stealer!"

"You stole the Fleece first!" I yelled back indignantly. "You've been using it to lure satyrs to their deaths!"

"So? Satyrs good eating!"

"The Fleece should be used to heal! It belongs to the children of the gods!"

"I am a child of the gods!" Polyphemus swiped at me, but I sidestepped. "Father Poseidon, curse this thief!" He was blinking hard now, like he could barely see, and I realized he was targeting by the sound of my voice.

"Poseidon won't curse me," I said, backing up as the Cyclops grabbed air. "I'm his child, too. He won't play favourites." I really hoped I was right about that. Last summer had to count for something, right?

Polyphemus roared. He ripped an olive tree out of the side of the cliff and smashed it where I'd been standing a moment before. "Humans not the same! Nasty, tricky, lying!"

"Not moronic?" I suggested. He scrunched his face at that, and I guessed that he didn't know what I meant. I risked a glance back at my friends.

Grover was helping Luke aboard the ship. Clarisse was waving frantically at me, telling me to come on.

Tyson worked his way around Polyphemus, trying to get behind him.

"Young one!" the older Cyclops called. "Where are you? Help me!"

Tyson stopped.

"Tyson don't listen to him!" I called.

"You weren't raised right!" Polyphemus wailed, shaking his olive tree club. "Poor orphaned brother! Help me!"

Tyson ignored my plea and stepped forward, raising his hands defensively. "Don't fight, Cyclops brother. Put down the—"

Polyphemus spun toward his voice.

"Tyson!" I shouted.

The tree struck him with such force it would've flattened me into an Ana pizza with extra-holey cheese. Tyson flew backward, ploughing a trench in the sand. Polyphemus charged after him, but I shouted, "No!" and lunged as far as I could with Anaklusmos. I'd hoped to sting Polyphemus in the back of the thigh, but I managed to leap a little bit higher.

"Blaaaaah!" Polyphemus bleated, sounding just like his sheep, and swung at me with his tree.

I dove, but still got raked across the back by a dozen jagged branches. I was bleeding and bruised and exhausted. The runaway foster kid inside me wanted to bolt. But I swallowed down my fear.

Polyphemus swung the tree again, but this time I was ready. I grabbed a branch as it passed, ignoring the pain in my hands as I was jerked skyward, and let the Cyclops lift me into the air. At the top of the arc I let go and fell straight against the giant's face—landing with both feet on his already damaged eye.

Polyphemus yowled in pain. Tyson tackled him, pulling him down. I landed next to them—sword in hand, within striking distance of the monster's heart. But I locked eyes with Tyson, and I knew I couldn't do it. It just wasn't right. Gods, I am such a soft idiot.

"Let him go," I told Tyson. "And run."

With one last mighty effort, Tyson pushed the cursing older Cyclops away, and we ran for the surf.

"I will smash you.'" Polyphemus yelled, doubling over in pain. His enormous hands cupped over his eye.

Tyson and I plunged into the waves.

"Where are you?" Polyphemus screamed. He picked up his tree club and threw it into the water. It splashed off to our right.

I summoned up a current to carry us, and we started gaining speed. I was beginning to think we might make it to the ship, when Clarisse shouted from the deck, "Yeah, Ana! In your face, Cyclops!"

Shut up, I wanted to yell, but I was busy controlling the current.

"Rarrr!" Polyphemus picked up a boulder. He threw it toward the sound of Clarisse's voice, but it fell short, narrowly missing Tyson and me.

"Yeah, yeah!" Clarisse taunted. "You throw like a wimp! Teach you to try marrying me, you idiot!"

"Clarisse!" I yelled, unable to stand it. "Shut up!"

I was too late. Polyphemus threw another boulder, and this time I watched helplessly as it sailed over my head and crashed through the hull of the _Queen Anne's Revenge._

You wouldn't believe how fast a ship can sink. The _Queen Anne's Revenge_ creaked and groaned and listed forward like it was going down a playground slide.

I cursed, willing the sea to push us faster, but I could see that the ship's masts were already going under.

"Dive!" I urged Tyson. As another rock sailed over our heads, we plunged underwater.

My friends were sinking fast, trying to swim, without luck, in the bubbly trail of the ship's wreckage.

Not many people realize that when a ship goes down, it acts like a sinkhole, pulling down everything around it. Clarisse was a strong swimmer, but even she wasn't making any progress.

Grover frantically kicked with his hooves. Luke was hanging on to the Fleece, which flashed in the water like a wave of new pennies. His spare arm was flapping in an attempt at doggie paddling, but he was going down faster than the other two. And our prize was going with him.

I swam toward them as fast as I could, knowing all the while that I might not have the strength to pull my friends out.

Worse, pieces of timber were swirling around them; none of my power with water would help if I got whacked unconscious by a beam.

 _We need help,_ I thought despairingly as I tried to navigate through the debris.

 _Yes._ It was Tyson's voice, loud and clear in my head.

I looked over at him, startled. I'd heard Nereids and other water spirits speak to me underwater before, but it never occurred to me … Tyson was a son of Poseidon. We could communicate with each other.

 _Rainbow,_ Tyson said.

I nodded, then closed my eyes and concentrated, adding my voice to Tyson's: _**RAINBOW! We need you!**_

Immediately, shapes shimmered in the darkness below—three horses with fish tails, galloping upward faster than dolphins. Rainbow and his friends glanced in our direction and seemed to read our thoughts. They whisked into the wreckage, and a moment later burst upward in a cloud of bubbles—Grover, Luke, and Clarisse each clinging to the neck of a hippocampus.

Rainbow, the largest, had Clarisse. He raced over to us and allowed Tyson to grab hold of his mane. His friend who was bearing Luke did the same for me.

We broke the surface of the water and raced away from Polyphemus's island. Behind us, I could hear the Cyclops roaring in triumph, "I did it! I finally sank Nobody!"

I sincerely hoped that he never found out he was wrong.

We skimmed across the sea as the island shrank to a dot and then disappeared.

"Did it," Luke muttered in exhaustion. "We …"

He slumped against the neck of the hippocampus and instantly fell asleep, not even finishing his sentence. I didn't blame him. It was a relief to see the colour in his cheeks steadily improving, and I reached over to adjust him to be more comfortable on the hippocampus.

I didn't know how far the hippocampi could take us. I didn't know where we were going. I just propped up Luke so that he wouldn't fall off, covered him in the Fleece that we had been through so much to get, and said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

Which reminded me … I still owed them a debt.

"You're a genius," I told Luke quietly.

Then I put my head against the Fleece, and before I knew it, I was asleep, too.


	16. Miami Surprises

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Reviews are always wanted and appreciated!**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

 **Miami Surprises**

"Ana, wake up."

Salt water splashed my face as I forced my heavy eyelids to open. Luke was shaking my shoulder. Thank the gods, he seemed to be fully recovered from his injuries at the island.

In the distance, the sun was setting behind a city skyline. I could see a beachside highway lined with palm trees, storefronts glowing with red and blue neon, a harbour filled with sailboats and cruise ships.

"Miami, by the look of it," Luke said. "But the hippocampi are acting weird. We don't know what's wrong with them."

Sure enough, our aquatic friends had slowed down and were whinnying and swimming in circles, sniffing the water. They didn't look happy. One of them sneezed. I could tell what they were thinking.

"This is as far as they'll take us," I explained, glancing around at my friends. "Too many humans. Too much pollution. We'll have to swim to shore on our own."

None of us was very happy about that, but we thanked Rainbow and his friends for the ride. Tyson cried a little. He unfastened the makeshift saddle pack he'd made, which contained his tool kit and a couple of other things he'd salvaged from the Birmingham wreck. He hugged Rainbow around the neck, gave him a soggy mango he'd picked up on the island, and said good-bye.

Once the hippocampi's white manes disappeared into the sea, we swam for shore. The waves pushed us forward, and in no time we were back in the mortal world. We wandered along the cruise line docks, pushing through crowds of people arriving for vacations. Porters bustled around with carts of luggage. Taxi drivers yelled at each other in Spanish and tried to cut in line for customers. If anybody noticed us—five kids dripping wet and looking like they'd just had a fight with a monster—they didn't let on.

Now that we were back among mortals, Tyson's single eye had blurred from the Mist. Grover had put on his cap and sneakers. Even the Fleece had transformed from a sheepskin to a red-and-gold high school letter jacket with a large glittery Omega on the pocket.

I grabbed the nearest newspaper from a box and checked the date on the Miami Herald. Then I swore curse viciously. "It's June eighteenth! We've been away from camp ten days!"

"That's impossible!" Clarisse said.

But I knew it wasn't. Time often travelled differently in monstrous places.

"Thalia's tree must be almost dead," Grover wailed in despair. "We have to get the Fleece back tonight."

Clarisse slumped down on the pavement. "How are we supposed to do that?" Her voice trembled. "We're hundreds of miles away. No money. No ride. This is just like the Oracle said. We're so screwed-"

"Stop it!" I snapped, unable to take listening to the terrible words. Images of Camp Half-Blood in flames, with the body of my friends strewing it, danced behind my eyelids. I blinked back tears and forced myself to try and figure out a plan to get the Fleece to Camp ASAP.

Clarisse put her head in hands and Luke punched a nearby wall in silent frustration. Another thought occurred to me: this was supposed to be Clarisse's quest. Luke and I shouldn't have even been here.

I thought about what I'd overheard in the boiler room of the _CSS Birmingham_ —Ares yelling at Clarisse, warning her that she'd better not fail. Ares couldn't care less about the camp, but if Clarisse made him look bad …

"Clarisse," I said, "what did the Oracle tell you exactly?"

She looked up. I thought she was going to tell me off, but instead she took a deep breath and recited her prophecy:

"You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone,

You shall find what you seek and make it your own,

But despair for your life entombed within stone,

And fail without friends, to fly home alone."

"Ouch," Grover mumbled.

"No," I shook my head, feeling hope beginning to flicker in my chest again. "No … wait a minute. I've got it."

I searched my pockets for money, and found nothing but a golden drachma. "Does anybody have any mortal cash?"

Luke and Grover shook their heads morosely. Clarisse pulled a wet Confederate dollar from her pocket and sighed. I bit my lip worriedly.

Then, "Cash?" Tyson asked hesitantly. "Like … green paper?"

I looked at him. "Yeah."

"Like the kind in duffel bags?"

"Yeah, but we lost those bags days a-g-g—"

I stuttered to a halt as Tyson rummaged in his saddle pack and pulled out the Ziploc bag full of cash that Hermes had included in our supplies.

"Tyson!" I exclaimed. "How did you—"

"Thought it was a feed bag for Rainbow," he said. "Found it floating in sea, but only paper inside. Sorry."

"Sorry?" I asked incredulously as he handed me the cash. Fives and tens, at least three hundred dollars. "Tyson you've just saved the camp!"

I ran to the curb and grabbed a taxi that was just letting out a family of cruise passengers.

"Clarisse," I yelled. "Come on. You're going to the airport. Luke, give her the Fleece. Hurry."

I'm not sure which of them looked more stunned as I took the Fleece letter jacket from Luke, tucked the cash into its' pocket, and put it in Clarisse's arms.

Clarisse said, "You'd let me—"

"It's your quest," I said. "We only have enough money for one flight. Besides, I can't travel by air. Zeus would blast me into a million pieces. That's what the prophecy meant: you'd fail without friends, meaning you'd need our help, but you'd have to fly home alone. You have to get the Fleece back safely."

I could see her mind working—suspicious at first, wondering what trick I was playing (because Clarisse and trust do _not_ go together), then finally deciding I meant what I said.

She jumped in the cab. "You can count on me. I won't fail."

"Of course you won't," I scoffed. "The thought that you might never occurred to me." Okay, a slight lie, but. Oh, whatever.

The cab peeled out in a cloud of exhaust. The Fleece was on its way.

"Ana," Luke frowned at me with crossed arms, "that was so—"

"Generous?" Grover offered.

"Stupid," Luke corrected. "You're betting the lives of everybody at camp that Clarisse will get the Fleece safely back by tonight? Are you completely crazy?"

"Number one," I held up a finger. "Don't call me or my ideas stupid or I'll punch you so hard you'll need surgery. Two," I held up a second finger. "Yes, I am insane, but not about this."

"Ana."

"It's her quest," I insisted. "She deserves a chance. She can do this. I know it."

"Ana is nice," Tyson said.

"Ana is too nice for her own good," Luke grumbled, but I could tell that he had (reluctantly) accepted my reasoning.

"Come on," I told my friends. "Let's find another way home."

That's when I turned and found a sword's point at my throat.

"Hello Ana," said Annabeth with a cold smile that sent shivers down my spine. "Welcome back to the States."

Her two bear-man thugs appeared on either of side of us. One grabbed Luke and Grover by their T-shirt collars. The other tried to grab Tyson, but Tyson knocked him into a pile of luggage and roared at Annabeth.

"Ana," Annabeth said calmly, "tell your pet monster to back down or I'll have Oreius bash your friends' heads together."

Oreius grinned and raised Luke and Grover off the ground, kicking and screaming.

"What do you want, Annabeth?" I growled.

Her vicious smile widened as she gestured toward the end of the dock, and I noticed what should've been obvious. The biggest boat in port was the _Princess Andromeda._ I'm really starting to loathe that damn ship.

"Why, I want to extend my hospitality, of course."

The bear twins herded us aboard the _Princess Andromeda_. They threw us down on the aft deck in front of a swimming pool with sparkling fountains that sprayed into the air. A dozen of Annabeth and Ethan's assorted goons—dracenae, Laistrygonians, demigods in full battle armour—had all gathered to watch us get some "hospitality." Ethan stepped forward to Annabeth's side as we were being manhandled in front of them.

"Now, the Fleece," he mused. "Where is it?" He looked us over, prodding my shirt with the tip of his sword, poking Grover's jeans.

"Hey!" Grover yelled. "That's real goat fur under there!"

"Sorry, Grover," Annabeth smiled insincerely at him. "Just give me the Fleece and I'll leave you to return to your, _nature quest_. You're an old friend after all."

"Blaa-ha-ha!" Grover protested. "Some old friend!"

"Maybe you didn't hear me." Ethan's voice was dangerously calm. "Where—is—the—Fleece?"

"Not here," I said. I probably shouldn't have told him anything, but it felt good to throw the truth in his face. "We sent it on ahead of us. You messed up."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. You couldn't have …" Both of their faces reddened as a horrible possibility occurred to them.

"Clarisse?" Ethan demanded.

"No way," Annabeth scoffed, shaking her head. "She's a daughter of Ares. That lot are too dumb to be trusted with something like that."

I laughed, making Annabeth blanch in horror.

"You actually trusted … you gave …"

"Yup." I popped the 'p' cheerfully. I was in a zone of adrenaline-induced happiness, invigorated by the distress I had caused to my enemies.

"Agrius!" Ethan barked furiously.

The bear giant flinched. "Y-yes?"

"Get below and prepare my steed. Bring it to the deck. I need to fly to the Miami Airport, fast.'"

"But, boss—"

"Do it!" Ethan screamed. "Or I'll feed you to the drakon!"

The bear-man gulped and lumbered down the stairs. Ethan paced in front of the swimming pool, cursing in Ancient Greek, gripping his sword so tight his knuckles turned white. Annabeth was rocking back and forth on her heels, muttering furiously and looking completely insane.

The rest of their crew looked uneasy. Maybe they'd never seen their boss so unhinged before.

I started thinking … If I could use their distress, get one of them to talk so everybody could hear what they had done…

I looked at the swimming pool, at the fountains spraying mist into the air, making a rainbow in the sunset. And suddenly I had an idea.

"You've been toying with us all along," I accused. "You wanted us to bring you the Fleece and save you the trouble of getting it."

Annabeth scowled. "Of course, you idiot! And now you've gone and messed everything up!"

"Traitor!" I dug my last gold drachma out of my pocket and threw it at her. As I expected, she dodged it easily.

The coin sailed into the spray of rainbow-colored water.

I hoped my prayer would be accepted in silence. I thought with all my heart: _O goddess, accept my offering._

"You tricked all of us!" I yelled at them. "Even DIONYSUS at CAMP HALF-BLOOD!"

Behind Annabeth, the fountain began to shimmer, but I needed everyone's attention on me, so I summoned Anaklusmos.

Annabeth just sneered. "This is no time for heroics, Ana. Drop your puny little sword, or I'll have you killed sooner rather than later."

"Who poisoned Thalia's tree?"

"Ethan and I did, of course," she snarled back. "I already told you that. I used elder python venom, straight from the depths of Tartarus."

"Chiron had nothing to do with it?"

"Ha! You know he would never do that. The old fool wouldn't have the guts."

"You call it guts? Betraying your friends? Endangering the whole camp?"

Ethan raised his sword. "You don't understand the half of it. We were going to let you take the Fleece … once we were done with it."

That made me hesitate. Why would they let us take the Fleece? He must've been lying. But I couldn't afford to lose his attention.

"You were going to heal Kronos," I stated.

"Yes! The Fleece's magic would've sped his mending process by tenfold. But you haven't stopped us, Ana. You've only slowed us down a little."

"And so you poisoned the tree, you betrayed Thalia, you set us up—all to help Kronos destroy the gods."

Annabeth gritted her teeth. "You know all that! Why do you keep asking the same things repeatedly?"

I smirked at her triumphantly. I could see Luke and Grover grinning as they watched. "Because I want everybody in the audience to hear you."

"What audience?"

Then their eyes narrowed. They looked back and their goons did the same. They all gasped and stumbled back.

Above the pool, shimmering in the rainbow mist, was an Iris-message vision of Dionysus, Tantalus, and the whole camp in the dining pavilion. They sat in stunned silence, watching us.

"Well," said Dionysus dryly, "some unplanned dinner entertainment."

"Mr. D, you heard them," I replied. "You all did. The poisoning of the tree wasn't Chiron's fault."

Mr. D sighed. "I suppose not."

"The Iris-message could be a trick," Tantalus suggested, but his attention was mostly on his cheeseburger, which he was trying to corner with both hands.

"I fear not," Mr. D said, looking with distaste at Tantalus. "It appears I shall have to reinstate Chiron as activities director. I suppose that I do miss the old horse's pinochle games."

Tantalus grabbed the cheeseburger. It didn't bolt away from him. He lifted it from the plate and stared at it in amazement, as if it were the largest diamond in the world. "I got it!" he cackled.

"We are no longer in need of your services, Tantalus," Mr. D announced.

Tantalus looked stunned. "What? But—"

"You may return to the Underworld. You are dismissed."

"No! But—Nooooooooooo!"

As he dissolved into mist, his fingers clutched at the cheeseburger, trying to bring it to his mouth. But it was too late. He disappeared and the cheeseburger fell back onto its' plate. The campers exploded into cheering.

Annabeth shrieked in rage. She slashed her knife through the fountain and the Iris-message dissolved, but the deed was done.

I was feeling pretty good about myself, until they both turned and gave me matching murderous looks.

"Kronos was right, Ana," Ethan declared. "You're an unreliable weapon. You need to be replaced."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I didn't have time to think about it. One of his men blew a brass whistle, and the deck doors flew open. A dozen more warriors poured out, making a circle around us, the brass tips of their spears bristling.

Annabeth smiled that awful icy smile at me. "You'll never leave this boat alive."


	17. High Horses

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I was lazy and didn't put a lot of effort into editing this, so ifyou spot a mistake just shoot me areview (with your opinions of the chap/story too, of course)**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

 **Invasion of the High Horses**

"One on one," I challenged Ethan. "What are you afraid of? Scared a five-foot girl is gonna kick your ass?"

Ethan curled his lip and exchanged a quick look with Annabeth. The soldiers who were about to kill us hesitated, waiting for their orders.

Before he could say anything, Agrius, the bear-man, burst onto the deck leading a flying horse. It was the first pure-black pegasus I'd ever seen, with wings like a giant raven. The pegasus stallion bucked and whinnied. I could understand his thoughts. He was calling Agrius and Luke some names so bad Chiron would've washed his muzzle out with saddle soap.

I saw the whip marks on his back, and the world went red as I clenched my sword so tight that my knuckles went white. How dare they?

"Sir!" Agrius called, dodging a pegasus hoof. "Your steed is ready!"

Ethan kept his eyes on me.

"You can't bait us into a fight," Annabeth snapped at me coldly.

"And you both keep avoiding one," I noticed, flipping my ponytail over my shoulder. "Scared your warriors will see you get whipped?"

They glanced at their soldiers, and saw that I had trapped them. If neither of them fought me, they would look weak.

Ethan would have to be the one to fly, because no pegasus would ever allow a child of Athena to ride them. It was hard enough for them to drive a chariot, outright riding an equine animal? Children of Athena had died for attempting to ride one of my father's creations. She also couldn't fight me, because Annabeth was no swordfighter, and a knife against a sword was about as likely to succeed as a knife against a gun, wits or not.

On the other hand, if Ethan fought me, he'd lose valuable time chasing after Clarisse, and they had already failed once.

For my part, the best I could hope for was to distract him, giving my friends a chance to escape. Although I was a good fighter, I was not the type of person to overestimate myself. I had never fought Ethan before, and I didn't even know his heritage, nor did I know what abilities he had gained from it. I just had to hope the others would be sensible, and get away as quick as they could. Luke was clever and sneaky. He could get Grover and Tyson away.

"I'll kill you quickly," Ethan decided, and raised his weapon.

I recoiled in horror at the sight, hearing Luke and Grover gasp.

It was a sword, a foot longer than my own. Its' blade glinted with an evil grey-and-gold light where human steel had been melded with celestial bronze. I could almost feel the blade fighting against itself, like two opposing magnets bound together. I didn't know how the blade had been made, but I sensed a tragedy.

Someone had died in the process.

"What is that?" I demanded, still horrified.

Ethan smirked and Annabeth chuckled darkly.

"Like it?" Ethan asked, twisting it so the light glinted off the blade. "I named it Backbiter. It's made of a mixture of steel and Celestial Bronze. Lethal to mortals and monsters alike."

"You make me sick," I told him seriously. I had a steel knife, kept tucked under my jeans. It was necessary, with all the time I spent on the streets. Monsters were not the only threat to me when I'm outside the camp. But I had never intentionally used it except in self-defence. That, _thing,_ had been created purely to create pain.

Ethan simply whistled to one of his men, who threw him a round leather-and-bronze shield. He grinned at me wickedly, and I lifted my chin, defiantly meeting his eyes without fear.

"Annabeth," Luke pleaded, "at least give her a shield."

"Sorry, Luke," she refused. "You bring your own equipment to this party."

The shield was a problem. Fighting two-handed with just a sword gives you more power, but fighting one-handed with a shield gives you better defence and versatility. There are more moves, more options, more ways to kill. Still, I was probably better off without one. I was more practiced without one.

Ethan lunged without warning and almost killed me on the first try. His sword went under my arm, slashing through my shirt and grazing my ribs.

I jumped back, then counterattacked with Anaklusmos, but Ethan slammed my blade away with his shield.

"So much for the best swordswoman in Camp Half-Blood," Annabeth snickered. I ignored her, ignored everything except my opponent. I slashed, cutting a long slash across his chest diagonally. He swore, and I noticed he was panting lightly, and beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead. I was the better fighter, and he knew it.

He came at me again with a swipe to the head. I parried, returned with a thrust. He sidestepped most of it, but I managed to graze the side of his arms.

The cut on my ribs stung. My heart was racing. When Ethan lunged again, I jumped backward into the swimming pool and felt a surge of strength in my weary limbs. I spun underwater, creating a funnel cloud, and blasted out of the deep end, straight at Ethan's face.

The force of the water knocked him down, spluttering and blinded. But before I could strike, he rolled aside and was on his feet again.

I attacked and sliced off the edge of his shield, but that didn't even faze him. He dropped to a crouch and jabbed at my legs. Suddenly my thigh was on fire, with a pain so intense I collapsed. My jeans were ripped above the knee. I was hurt. I didn't know how badly. Ethan hacked downward and I rolled behind a deck chair. I tried to stand, but my leg wouldn't take the weight.

"Annnnaaa!" Grover bleated.

"Sister!" Tyson called.

"Ariel!" Luke cried at the same time, all of their voices panicked. I gritted my teeth, trying to suppress the pain. No way was I going down without a fight.

I rolled again as Ethan's sword slashed the deck chair in half, metal pipes and all.

I clawed toward the swimming pool, trying hard not to black out. I'd never make it. My enemies knew it, too. I could hear Annabeth laughing as Ethan advanced slowly, smiling. The edge of his sword was tinged with red.

"One thing I want you to watch before you die, Ana." He looked at the bear-man Oreius, who was still holding Luke and Grover by the necks. "You can eat your dinner now, Oreius. Bon appetit."

"He-he! He-he!" The bear-man lifted my friends and bared his teeth.

That's when all Hades broke loose.

There was a loud whish!

A red-feathered arrow sprouted from Oreius' mouth. With a surprised look on his hairy face, he crumpled to the deck.

"Brother!" Agrius wailed. He let the pegasus' reins go slack just long enough for the black steed to kick him in the head and fly away free over Miami Bay.

For a split second, the guards were all too stunned to do anything except watch the bear twins' bodies dissolve into smoke.

Then there was a wild chorus of war cries and hooves thundering against metal. A dozen centaurs charged out of the main stairwell.

"Ponies!" Tyson cried with delight.

My mind had trouble processing everything I saw. Chiron was among the crowd, but his relatives were almost nothing like him. And I'm not just talking about appearances, here.

There were centaurs with black Arabian stallion bodies, others with gold palomino coats, others with orange-and-white spots like paint horses. Some wore brightly coloured T-shirts with Day-Glo letters that said PARTY PONIES: SOUTH FLORIDA CHAPTER. Some were armed with bows, some with baseball bats, some with paintball guns. One had his face painted like a Comanche warrior and was waving a large orange Styrofoam hand making a big Number I. Another was bare-chested and painted entirely green. A third had googly-eye glasses with the eyeballs bouncing around on Slinky coils, and one of those baseball caps with soda-can-and-straw attachments on either side.

They exploded onto the deck with such ferocity and colour that for a moment even Annabeth and Ethan were stunned. I couldn't tell whether they had come to celebrate or attack.

Apparently both. As Ethan was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool. Annabeth was hit in the stomach with a paintball, the force of the blow sending her slamming into the deck, where she lay unconscious. Unfortunately, her chest was still moving, so she wasn't dead. I guess that you can't have everything.

Their warriors scattered. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. Facing the hooves of a rearing stallion is scary enough, but when it's a centaur, armed with a bow and whooping it up in a soda-drinking hat, even the bravest warrior would retreat.

"Come get some!" yelled one of the party ponies.

They let loose with their paintball guns. A wave of blue and yellow exploded against the warriors, blinding them and splattering them from head to toe. They tried to run, only to slip and fall.

Chiron galloped toward Luke and Grover, neatly plucked them off the deck, and deposited them on his back.

I tried to get up, but my wounded leg still felt like it was on fire.

Ethan was crawling out of the pool.

"Attack, you idiots.'" he ordered his troops. Somewhere down below deck, a large alarm bell thrummed.

I knew that any second we would be swamped by reinforcements. Already, the warriors were getting over their surprise, coming at the centaurs with swords and spears drawn.

Tyson slapped half a dozen of them aside, knocking them over the guardrail into Miami Bay. But even more warriors were coming up the stairs.

"Withdraw, brethren!" Chiron cried.

"You won't get away with this, horse man!" Ethan shouted. He raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deck chair. I noticed with glee that his nose was bleeding and his eye was swelling. I hoped that it hurt.

A palomino centaur hoisted me onto his back. "Lady, get your big friend!"

"Tyson!" I yelled. "Come on!"

Tyson dropped the two warriors he was about to tie into a knot and jogged after us. He jumped on the centaur's back. I winced in sympathy.

"Dude!" the centaur groaned, almost buckling under Tyson's weight. "Do the words 'low-carb diet' mean anything to you?"

Ethan and Annabeth's warriors were organizing themselves into a phalanx. But by the time they were ready to advance, the centaurs had galloped to the edge of the deck and fearlessly jumped the guardrail, as if it were a steeplechase and not ten stories above the ground. I figured we were going to die. At least Ethan and Annabeth wouldn't get the satisfaction of killing me.

We plummeted toward the docks, but the centaurs hit the asphalt with hardly a jolt and galloped off, whooping and yelling taunts at the _Princess Andromeda_ as we raced into the streets of downtown Miami.

I have no idea what the Miamians thought as we galloped by. Maybe that there was some sort of gas leak and they were hallucinating. I found it hard to believe that the Mist could cover _this_ up.

Streets and buildings began to blur as the centaurs picked up speed. It felt as if space were compacting—as if each centaur step took us miles and miles. In no time, we'd left the city behind.

We raced through marshy fields of high grass and ponds and stunted trees.

Finally, we found ourselves in a trailer park at the edge of a lake. The trailers were all horse trailers, tricked out with televisions and mini-refrigerators and mosquito netting. We were in a centaur camp.

"Dude!" said a party pony as he unloaded his gear. "Did you see that bear guy? He was all like: 'Whoa, I have an arrow in my mouth!'"

The centaur with the googly-eye glasses laughed. "That was awesome! Head slam!"

The two centaurs charged at each other full-force and knocked heads, then went staggering off in different directions with crazy grins on their faces.

Chiron sighed. He set Luke and Grover down on a picnic blanket next to me. "I really wish my cousins wouldn't slam their heads together. They don't have the brain cells to spare."

I wasn't sure which was shocking me more. The centaurs or how close of a call we had had. "Chiron," I said, stunned by the fact that he was here. "You saved us."

He gave me a dry smile. "Well now, I couldn't very well let you die, especially since you've cleared my name."

"But how did you even know where we were?" Luke asked, wrapping an arm around me so I could lean on him for support.

"Advanced planning," Chiron explained. "I figured you would wash up near Miami if you made it out of the Sea of Monsters alive. Almost everything strange washes up near Miami."

"Gee, thanks," Grover mumbled.

"No wonder they're all on drugs," I remarked at the same time, making Luke snicker in amusement. Chiron shot me a chiding look as he answered Grover.

"No, no," Chiron said. "I didn't mean … Oh, never mind. I am glad to see you, my young satyr. The point is, I was able to eavesdrop on Ana's Iris-message and trace the signal. Iris and I have been friends for centuries. I asked her to alert me to any important communications in this area. It then took no effort to convince my cousins to ride to your aid. As you see, centaurs can travel quite fast when we wish to. Distance for us is not the same as distance for humans."

I looked over at the campfire, where three party ponies were teaching Tyson to operate a paintball gun. I hoped they knew what they were getting into. I sure as hell wasn't dealing with _that_ mess.

"So what now?" I asked Chiron. "We just let them sail away? They've got Kronos aboard that ship. Or parts of him, anyway."

Chiron knelt, carefully folding his front legs underneath him. He opened the medicine pouch on his belt and started to treat my wounds. "I'm afraid, Ana, that today has been something of a draw. We didn't have the strength of numbers to take that ship. They were not organized enough to pursue us. Nobody won."

I hated that he was right.

"But we got the Fleece!" Luke protested. "Clarisse is on her way back to camp with it right now."

Chiron nodded, though he still looked uneasy. "You are all true heroes. And as soon as we get Ana fixed up, you must return to Half-Blood Hill. The centaurs shall carry you."

"You're coming, too?" I checked quickly.

"Oh yes, Ana. I'll be relieved to get home. My brethren here simply do not appreciate Dean Martin's music. Besides, I must have some words with Mr. D. There's the rest of the summer to plan. So much training to do. And I want to see … I'm curious about the Fleece."

I didn't know exactly what he meant, but it made me worried about what Ethan had said: _I was going to let you take the Fleece … once I was done with it._

Had he just been lying? I'd learned with Kronos there was usually a plan within a plan. The titan lord wasn't called the Crooked One for nothing. He had ways of getting people to do what he wanted without them ever realizing his true intentions. But how would fixing the wards on Camp Half-Blood help him?

Over by the campfire, Tyson let loose with his paintball gun. A blue projectile splattered against one of the centaurs, hurling him backward into the lake. The centaur came up grinning, covered in swamp muck and blue paint, and gave Tyson two thumbs up.

"Luke," Chiron said, "perhaps you and Grover would go supervise Tyson and my cousins before they, ah, teach each other too many bad habits?"

Luke met his eyes. Some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Sure, Chiron," Luke nodded, helping me sit. "Come on, goat boy."

"But I don't like paintball."

"Now, you do." He hoisted Grover back onto his hooves and led him off toward the campfire.

Chiron finished bandaging my leg. "Ana, we need to have a talk. A talk about the prophecy."

 _Uh-oh,_ I thought. I debated running away, from the responsibility of saving or destroying the world. But Chiron's speed and my still-wounded leg prevented it.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "So, am I the one in the prophecy?"

Chiron tucked his bandages back into his pouch. "I wish I knew, Ana. You're not yet sixteen. For now we must simply train you as best we can, and leave the future to the Fates."

The Fates. I hadn't thought about those old ladies except to damn them in a long time, but as soon as Chiron mentioned them, something clicked.

"That's what it meant," I realized, feeling sick.

Chiron frowned. "That's what what meant?"

"Last summer. The omen from the Fates, when I saw them snip somebody's life string. I thought it meant I was going to die right away, but it's worse than that. It's got something to do with your prophecy. The death they foretold—it's going to happen when I'm sixteen."

Chiron's tail whisked nervously in the grass. "My girl, you can't be sure of that. We don't even know if the prophecy is about you."

"But there isn't any other half-blood child of the Big Three!"

"That we know of."

"And Kronos is rising. He's going to destroy Mount Olympus!"

"He will try," Chiron agreed. "And Western Civilization along with it, if we don't stop him. But we will stop him. You will not be alone in that fight."

I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but I remembered what I had heard once before. It would come down to one hero. One decision that would save or destroy the West. And I felt sure that the Fates had been giving me some kind of warning about that. Something terrible was going to happen, either to me or to somebody I was close to.

"I'm just a kid, Chiron," I said miserably. "What good is one lousy hero against something like Kronos?"

Chiron managed a smile. '"What good is one lousy hero'? Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain said something like that to me once, just before he single-handedly changed the course of your Civil War."

"I don't know who that is."

He pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned the razor-sharp tip so it glinted in the firelight.

"Celestial bronze, Ana. An immortal weapon. What would happen if you shot this at a human?"

"Nothing," I said. "It would pass right through."

"That's right," he said. "Humans don't exist on the same level as the immortals. They can't even be hurt by our weapons. But you, Ana—you are part god, part human. You live in both worlds. You can be harmed by both, and you can affect both. That's what makes heroes so special.

You carry the hopes of humanity into the realm of the eternal. Monsters never die. They are reborn from the chaos and barbarism that is always bubbling underneath civilization, the very stuff that makes Kronos stronger. They must be defeated again and again, kept at bay. Heroes embody that struggle. You fight the battles humanity must win, every generation, in order to stay human. Do you understand?"

"No." As far as I could tell, heroes were merely twice as vulnerable. Not twice as valuable, like Chiron seemed to be trying to imply.

"You must try, Ana," he insisted. "Because whether or not you are the child of the prophecy, Kronos thinks you might be. And after today, he will finally despair of turning you to his side. That is the only reason he hasn't killed you yet, you know. As soon as he's sure he can't use you, he will destroy you."

"You talk like you know him."

Chiron pursed his lips. "I do know him," he admitted.

I stared at him in shock. I hadn't expected theat, though given Chiron's age, I probably should have. "Is that why Mr. D blamed you when the tree was poisoned?" I asked. "Why you said some people don't trust you?"

"Indeed."

"But, Chiron … I mean, come on! Why would they think you'd ever betray the camp for Kronos?"

Chiron's eyes were deep brown, full of thousands of years of sadness. "Ana, remember your training. Remember your study of mythology. What is my connection to the titan lord?"

I tried to think, but most of my focus had been on monsters. Chiron wasn't a threat to me, so I hadn't looked into his history, though it seems I should have. I shook my head.

"I don't know." I pulled my hand through my tangled hair. Chiron's expression was pained as he met my eyes with his ancient brown ones.

"Ana," Chiron said, his voice impossibly soft. "The Titan Kronos is my father."


	18. Winning

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Second last photo!**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

 **We Win the Wreath**

We arrived in Long Island just after Clarisse, thanks to the centaurs' travel powers. They seemed to be able to bend time as they galloped along, or something similar, at any rate.

I rode on Chiron's back, but we didn't talk much, and _especially_ not about Kronos. I knew that it had been difficult for Chiron to tell me, and I didn't want to push him with more questions. I mean, I've met plenty of bad parents, but Kronos, the evil titan lord who wanted to destroy Western Civilization, not to mention ate his children? Not the kind of dad you invited to school for career day. It almost made me appreciate my sixth foster father, which said a lot.

When we got to camp, the centaurs were all really eager to meet Dionysus. They'd heard he threw some really wild parties, but they were disappointed. The wine god was in no mood to celebrate as the whole camp gathered at the top of Half-Blood Hill. I suppose he was disappointed we weren't going to invaded and all of us killed, after all.

The camp had been through a hard two weeks. The arts and crafts cabin had burned to the ground from an attack by a Draco Aionius (which as near as I could figure was Latin for "really-big-lizard-with-breath-that-blows-stuff-up", a.k.a, a Greek dragon). And that was one of less-injury causing attacks. The Big House's rooms were overflowing with wounded. The kids in the Apollo cabin, who were the best healers, had been working overtime performing first aid.

Everybody looked weary and battered as we all crowded around Thalia's tree.

The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest bough, the moonlight seemed to brighten, turning from grey to liquid silver. A cool breeze rustled in the branches and rippled through the grass, all the way into the valley. Everything came into sharper focus—the glow of the fireflies down in the woods, the smell of the strawberry fields, the sound of the waves on the beach.

Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green.

Everybody cheered. It was happening slowly, but there could be no doubt—the Fleece's magic was seeping into the tree, filling it with new power and expelling the poison.

Chiron ordered a twenty-four/seven guard duty on the hilltop, at least until he could find an appropriate monster to protect the Fleece. He said he'd place an ad in Olympus Weekly right away.

In the meantime, Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates' shoulders down to the amphitheatre, where she was honoured with a laurel wreath and a lot of celebrating around the campfire.

To my delight, nobody gave Luke or me a second look. It was as if we'd never left. Really, that was the best thank-you anyone could give us, because if they admitted that we had snuck out of camp to do the quest, they would have to expel us. And really, I didn't want any more attention. It felt good to be just one of the campers for once. And Clarisse deserved her accolades, she really did.

The next morning, after the party ponies headed back to Florida, Chiron made a surprise announcement: the chariot races would go ahead as scheduled. We'd all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.

Tyson wasn't too keen on the idea of getting in a chariot after our first experience, but he was happy to let me team up with Luke. I would drive, Luke would defend, and Tyson would act as our pit crew. While I worked with the horses, Tyson fixed up the Hermes chariot and added a whole bunch of special modifications.

We spent the next two days training like crazy. Luke and I agreed that if we won, the prize of no chores for the rest of the month would be split between our two cabins. Since Hermes had a _lot_ more campers, they would get most of the time off, which was fine by me. I didn't care about the prize. I just wanted to win.

The night before the race, I stayed late at the stables. I was talking to our horses, giving them one final brushing, when somebody right behind me said, "Fine animals, horses. Wish I'd thought of them."

I jumped about a foot in the air, spinning and summoning my sword as I turned.

A middle-aged guy in a postal carrier outfit was leaning against the stable door. He was slim, with curly black hair under his white pith helmet, and he had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.

"Hermes?" I stammered in surprise.

"Hello, Ana. Didn't recognize me without my jogging clothes?"

"Uh …" I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to kneel or buy stamps from him or something. Neither option appealed to me. I decided to go the simple route. "What's up?"

He sighed. "Do you ever feel your father abandoned you, Ana?"

Oh, man. That was a dangerous question. For me.

I wanted to say, "Only a few hundred times a day." I hadn't spoken to Poseidon since last summer. That minute-long conversation was more than most half-bloods got in their entire lives, and it had mostly consisted of him saying I was an unwanted mistake. And then there was the whole thing with Tyson—I love him, but seriously. I got no warning, no explanation. Just boom, you have a brother. You'd think that deserved a little heads-up phone call or something. At the very least, it'd've been nice to find out earlier, like when I found him sleeping in a cardboard box, or something.

We weren't even gonna touch the subject of my mom, or what had happened to her. Sure, gods couldn't pay attention to their children, but what about their former lovers?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

Hermes readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder. "Ana, the hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children. If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem … well, that would only create more problems and more resentment. But I believe if you give it some thought, you will see that Poseidon has been paying attention to you. He has answered your prayers. I can only hope that someday, Luke may realize the same about me."

"Right," I drawled. This conversation was confusing and disjointed, and I wanted my bed. Best to just (carefully) agree. Without ending up involved in another quest, or anything.

Hermes shrugged as he continued. "Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we're related, for better or worse … and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum."

It didn't sound like much of a recipe for the perfect family. Then again, as I thought about my quest, I realized maybe Hermes was right. Poseidon had sent the hippocampi to help us. He'd given me powers over the sea that I'd never known about before. And there was Tyson. Had Poseidon brought us together on purpose? How many times had Tyson saved my life this summer? Damn, now I felt appreciative towards my father, something I hated. And would probably be bad for my ongoing health.

In the distance, the conch horn sounded, signalling curfew.

"You should get to bed," Hermes said. "I've helped you get into quite enough trouble this summer already. I really only came to make this delivery."

"A delivery?"

"I _am_ the messenger of the gods, Ana." He took an electronic signature pad from his mailbag and handed it to me. "Sign there, please."

I picked up the stylus before realizing it was entwined with a pair of tiny green snakes. "Ah!" I dropped the pad.

 _Ouch,_ said George.

 _Really, Ana,_ Martha scolded. _Would you want to be dropped on the floor of a horse stable?_

"Oh, uh, sorry." I _really_ hated snakes, but I managed to hide my whimper as I picked up the pad and the stylus again. Martha and George wriggled under my fingers, forming a kind of pencil grip like the ones my special ed teacher made me use in second grade. I forced down a shudder. The only thing about my heritage was that it had helped with ophiophobia. Hard to be afraid of little green snakes after fighting the war god one-on-one.

 _Did you bring me a rat?_ George asked.

"No …" I said. "Uh, we didn't find any."

 _What about a guinea pig?_

 _George!_ Martha chided. _Don't tease the girl._

I signed my name and gave the pad back to Hermes.

In exchange, he handed me a sea-blue envelope.

My fingers trembled. Even before I opened it, I could tell it was from my father. I could sense his power in the cool blue paper, as if the envelope itself had been folded out of an ocean wave.

"Good luck tomorrow," Hermes said. "Fine team of horses you have there, and an even finer defender. I'll be routing for you and Luke."

 _And don't be too discouraged when you read it, dear,_ Martha told me. _He does have your interests at heart._

"What do you mean?" I asked.

 _Don't mind her,_ George said. _And next time, remember, snakes work for tips._

"Enough, you two," Hermes said. "Good-bye, Ana. For now."

Small white wings sprouted from his pith helmet. He began to glow, and I knew enough about the gods to avert my eyes before he revealed his true divine form. With a brilliant white flash he was gone, and I was alone with the horses.

I stared at the blue envelope in my hands. It was addressed in strong but elegant handwriting.

 _Ana Jackson_

 _c/o Camp Half-Blood_

 _Farm Road 3.141_

 _Long Island, New York 11954_

An actual letter from my father. What would he write? I didn't even know what I wanted it to say.

I opened the envelope and unfolded the paper.

Two simple words were printed in the middle of the page:

 _Brace Yourself_

The next morning, everybody was buzzing about the chariot race, though they kept glancing nervously toward the sky like they expected to see Stymphalian birds gathering. None did. It was a beautiful summer day with blue sky and plenty of sunshine. The camp had started to look the way it should look: the meadows were green and lush; the white columns gleamed on the Greek buildings; dryads played happily in the woods.

And I was miserable. I'd been lying awake all night, thinking about Poseidon's warning.

 _Brace yourself._

I mean, he goes to the trouble of writing a letter, and he writes two words?

Martha the snake had told me not to feel disappointed. Maybe Poseidon had a reason for being so vague. Maybe he didn't know exactly what he was warning me about, but he sensed something big was about to happen—something that could completely knock me off my feet unless I was prepared. It was hard, but I tried to turn my thoughts to the race.

As Luke and I drove onto the track, I couldn't help admiring the work Tyson had done on the Hermes chariot. It was completely different from the falling-to-pieces wooden box on wheels it had been previously. The carriage gleamed with bronze reinforcements. The wheels were realigned with magical suspension so we glided along with hardly a bump. The rigging for the horses was so perfectly balanced that the team turned at the slightest tug of the reins.

Tyson had also made us two javelins, each with three buttons on the shaft. The first button primed the javelin to explode on impact, releasing razor wire that would tangle and shred an opponent's wheels. The second button produced a blunt (but still very painful) bronze spearhead designed to knock a driver out of his carriage. The third button brought up a grappling hook that could be used to lock onto an enemy's chariot or push it away.

I figured we were in pretty good shape for the race, but Tyson still warned me to be careful. The other chariot teams had plenty of tricks up their togas.

"Here," he said, just before the race began.

He handed me a bracelet. It was a simple silver bracelet, with a dolphin hanging from it, but as soon as I saw it, I realized that this is what I'd seen him tinkering on all summer.

I didn't usually like to wear jewellery. It got tangled during fighting. But I couldn't say no to Tyson.

"Thanks, honey." I put it on and found it was surprisingly light and comfortable. I could hardly tell I was wearing it.

"Didn't finish in time for the trip," Tyson mumbled. "Sorry, sorry."

"Hey, baby. No big deal."

"If you need protection in race," he advised, "Tug the dolphin."

"Ah, okay." I didn't see how fidgeting was going to help a whole lot, but I was touched that Tyson was concerned. I promised him I'd remember the bracelet.

"And, Tyson.." I trailed off, unable to phrase my relief at the fact that he was alive. Or apologize for not saving him when the _CSS Birmingham_ exploded.

"I know what you will tell me," Tyson said, looking ashamed. "Poseidon did care for me after all."

That was definitely _not_ what I wanted to say. I didn't like to make a habit of lying. "Uh, well—"

"He sent you to help me. Just what I asked for."

I blinked in surprise. "You asked Poseidon for … me?"

"For a friend," Tyson said, twisting his shirt in his hands. "Young Cyclopes grow up alone on the streets, learn to make things out of scraps. Learn to survive."

"But that's so cruel!"

He shook his head earnestly. "Makes us appreciate blessings, not be greedy and mean and fat like Polyphemus. But I got scared. Monsters chased me so much, clawed me sometimes—"

"The scars on your back?"

A tear welled in his eye. "Sphinx on Seventy-second Street. Big bully. I prayed to Daddy for help. Soon met you. Biggest blessing ever. Sorry I said Poseidon was mean. He sent me a sister."

I stared at the bracelet that Tyson had made for me.

"Ariel!" Luke called. "Come on, Gorgeous!"

Chiron was at the starting line, ready to blow the conch.

"Tyson …" I said.

"Go," Tyson said. "You will win!"

"I—yeah, okay, baby. We'll win this one for you." I climbed on board the chariot and got into position just as Chiron blew the starting signal.

The horses knew what to do. We shot down the track so fast I would've fallen out if my arms hadn't been wrapped in the leather reins. Luke held on tight to the rail. The wheels glided beautifully. We took the first turn a full chariot-length ahead of Clarisse, who was busy trying to fight off a javelin attack from the Demeter kids.

"We've got 'em!" I yelled, but I spoke too soon.

"Incoming!" Luke yelled. He threw his first javelin in grappling hook mode, knocking away a lead-weighted net that would have entangled us both. Apollo's chariot had come up on our flank. Before Luke could rearm himself, the Apollo warrior threw a javelin into our right wheel.

The javelin shattered, but not before snapping some of our spokes. Our chariot lurched and wobbled. I was sure the wheel would collapse altogether, but we somehow kept going.

I urged the horses to keep up the speed. We were now neck and neck with the Apollo chariot.

Hephaestus was coming up close behind. Ares and Hermes were falling behind, riding side by side as Clarisse went sword-on-javelin with Katie.

If we took one more hit to our wheel, I knew we would capsize.

"You're mine!" the driver from Apollo yelled. He was a first-year camper. I didn't remember his name, but he sure was confident. Idiot better learn not to be cocky soon, or his life would be a short one.

"Yeah, right!" Luke yelled back.

He picked up his second javelin—a real risk considering we still had one full lap to go—and threw it at the Apollo driver.

His aim was perfect. The javelin grew a heavy spear point just as it caught the driver in the chest, knocking him against his teammate and sending them both toppling out of their chariot in a backward somersault. The horses felt the reins go slack and went crazy, riding straight for the crowd. Campers scrambled for cover as the horses leaped the corner of the bleachers and the golden chariot flipped over. The horses galloped back toward their stable, dragging the upside-down chariot behind them.

I held our own chariot together through the second turn, despite the groaning of the right wheel. We passed the starting line and thundered into our final lap.

The axle creaked and moaned. The wobbling wheel was making us lose speed, even though the horses were responding to my every command, running like a well-oiled machine.

The Hephaestus team was still gaining.

Beckendorf grinned as he pressed a button on his command console. Steel cables shot out of the front of his mechanical horses, wrapping around our back rail. Our chariot shuddered as Beckendorf's winch system started working—pulling us backward while Beckendorf pulled himself forward.

Luke cursed and drew a knife. He hacked at the cables but they were too thick.

"Can't cut them." He yelled at me.

The Hephaestus chariot was now dangerously close, their horses about to trample us underfoot.

"Switch with me!" I told Luke. "Take the reins!"

"But—"

"Trust me!"

Our magic words. He pulled himself to the front and grabbed the reins. I turned, trying hard to keep my footing, and summoned Anaklusmos.

I slashed down and the cables snapped like kite string. We lurched forward, but Beckendorf's driver just swung his chariot to our left and pulled up next to us. Beckendorf drew his sword. He slashed at Luke, and I parried the blade away.

We were coming up on the last turn. We'd never make it. I needed to disable the Hephaestus chariot and get it out of the way, but I had to protect Luke, too. Just because Beckendorf was a friend didn't mean he wouldn't send us both to the infirmary if we let our guard down.

We were neck and neck now, Clarisse coming up from behind, making up for lost time.

"See ya, Ana!" Beckendorf yelled. "Here's a little parting gift!"

He threw a leather pouch into our chariot. It stuck to the floor immediately and began billowing green smoke.

"Greek fire!" Luke warned, looking panicked.

I swore violently in Greek. I'd heard stories about what Greek fire could do. I figured we had maybe ten seconds before it exploded.

"Get rid of it!" Luke shouted, but I couldn't. Hephaestus' chariot was still alongside, waiting until the last second to make sure their little present blew up. Beckendorf was keeping me busy with his sword. If I let my guard down long enough to deal with the Greek fire, Luke would get sliced and we'd crash anyway. I tried to kick the leather pouch away with my foot, but I couldn't.

It was stuck fast.

Then I remembered the bracelet.

I didn't know how it could help, but I managed to punch the stopwatch button. Instantly, the bracelet changed. It expanded, the metal rim spiralling outward like an old-fashioned camera shutter, a leather strap wrapping around my forearm until I was holding a round war shield four feet wide, the inside soft leather, the outside polished bronze engraved with designs I didn't have time to examine.

All I knew: Tyson had come through. I raised the shield, and Beckendorf's sword clanged against it. His blade shattered.

"What?" he shouted. "How—"

He didn't have time to say more because I knocked him in the chest with my new shield and sent him flying out of his chariot, tumbling in the dirt.

I was about use Anaklusmos to slash at the driver when Luke yelled, "Ana!"

The Greek fire was shooting sparks. I shoved the tip of my sword under the leather pouch and flipped it up like a spatula. The firebomb dislodged and flew into the Hephaestus chariot at the driver's feet. He yelped.

In a split second the driver made the right choice: he dove out of the chariot, which careened away and exploded in green flames. The metal horses seemed to short-circuit. They turned and dragged the burning wreckage back toward Clarisse and Katie, who had to swerve to avoid it.

Luke pulled the reins for the last turn. I held on, sure we would capsize, but somehow he brought us through and spurred the horses across the finish line. The crowd roared.

Once the chariot stopped, our friends mobbed us. They started chanting our names, but Luke yelled over the noise: "Hold up! Listen! It wasn't just us!"

The crowd didn't want to be quiet, but Luke made himself be heard: "We couldn't have done it without somebody else! We couldn't have won this race or gotten the Fleece or saved Grover or anything! We owe our lives to Tyson, Ana's …"

"Brother!" I said, loud enough for everybody to hear. "Tyson, my baby brother."

Tyson blushed. The crowd cheered. Luke spun me around and pecked my forehead before pulling back to wink at me flirtatiously. The roaring got a lot louder after that. The entire Hermes cabin lifted Luke, Tyson and I onto their shoulders and carried us toward the winner's platform, where Chiron was waiting to bestow the laurel wreaths.

Books Online Fr


	19. Ending

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Last chapter of Sea of Monsters! Titan's Curse'll be out in a few days (hopefully).**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

 **The Titan's Twist**

That afternoon was one of the happiest I'd ever spent at camp, which probably goes to show, you never know when your world is about to be rocked to pieces.

Grover announced that he'd be able to spend the rest of the summer with us before resuming his quest for Pan. His bosses at the Council of Cloven Elders were so impressed that he hadn't gotten himself killed and had cleared the way for future searchers, that they granted him a two-month furlough and a new set of reed pipes.

The only bad news: Grover insisted on playing those pipes all afternoon long, and his musical skills hadn't improved much. He played "YMCA," and the strawberry plants started going crazy, wrapping around our feet like they were trying to strangle us. I guess I couldn't blame them, seeing as I wanted to strangle his 'music' too. However illogically that was phrased. But, because I was a good friend, I managed to restrain myself and not break them. Though, I wasn't about to make any promises if he started on Hilary Duff again.

Grover told me he could dissolve the empathy link between us, now that we were face to face, but I had simply rolled my eyes and told him not to be an idiot. He put down his reed pipes and stared at me. "But, if I get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Ana! You could die!"

"I'm a demigod, Grover," I scoffed back. "Dying's in definition." I gave him a stern, unyielding look that said I wasn't going to back down on this. "If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again, Grover. I wouldn't have it any other way."

In the end he agreed not to break the link. He went back to playing "YMCA" for the strawberry plants. I didn't need an empathy link with the plants to know how they felt about it. I suspect I did everyone a favour when I confiscated the reeds and rapped him around the head with him. See how _he_ enjoys having a skull-splitting headache.

As for Tyson, the campers treated him like a hero. I would've been happy to have him as my cabin mate forever, but that evening, as we were sitting on a sand dune overlooking the Long Island Sound, he made an announcement that completely took me by surprise.

"Dream came from Daddy last night," he said. "He wants me to visit."

I wondered if he was kidding, but Tyson really didn't know how to kid. "Poseidon sent you a dream message?"

Tyson nodded. "Wants me to go underwater for the rest of the summer. Learn to work at Cyclopes' forges. He called it an inter—an intern—"

"An internship?"

"Yes." I let that sink in. I'll admit, I felt a little bitter. Poseidon did seem to actually care about Tyson. But me? He said to my face that I was a _mistake_. Who wouldn't feel a bit resentful at hearing their parent say that, no matter how they felt about the parent themselves? Then I realized, Tyson was _going_? Just like that?

"When would you leave?" I asked.

"Now."

"Now. Like … right now?"

"Now."

"Oh." I stared out at the waves in the Long Island Sound. The water was glistening red in the sunset. I could feel tears pricking my eyelids. "I'm happy for you, baby," I managed. "Seriously."

"Hard to leave my new sister," he said with a tremble in his voice. "But I want to make things. Weapons for the camp. You will need them."

Unfortunately, I knew he was right. The Fleece hadn't solved all the camp's problems. Annabeth and Ethan were both still out there, gathering an army aboard the _Princess Andromeda_. Kronos was still re-forming in his golden coffin. Eventually, we would have to fight them. War was inevitable, and the Great Prophecy loomed over my head like a Sword of Damocles. I would turn fourteen in a little over three weeks, meaning I would be exactly two years away from my much-dreaded sixteenth birthday.

"You'll make the best weapons ever," I told Tyson. I held up my bracelet proudly. "The _best_. No contest."

Tyson sniffled. "Brothers and sisters help each other."

"You're my brother," I vowed. "No doubt about it."

He patted me on the back so hard he almost knocked me down the sand dune. Then he wiped a tear from his cheek and stood to go. "Use the shield well."

"I will, baby."

"Save your life someday."

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, I wondered if that Cyclops eye of his could see into the future.

"Just like its' creator," I answered softly as he headed down to the beach and whistled. Rainbow, the hippocampus, burst out of the waves. I watched the two of them ride off together into the realm of Poseidon.

Once they were gone, I looked down at my new bracelet. I tugged on the dolphin and the shield spiralled out to full size. Hammered into the bronze were pictures in Ancient Greek style, scenes from our adventures this summer. There was me slaying a Laistrygonian dodgeball player, Luke fighting the bronze bulls on Half-Blood Hill, Tyson riding Rainbow toward the _Princess Andromeda_ , the _CSS Birmingham_ blasting its' cannons at Charybdis. I ran my hand across a picture of Tyson, battling the Hydra as he held aloft a box of Monster Donuts.

I couldn't help feeling sad. I knew Tyson would have a fantastic time under the ocean. He would love his internship, of that I had no doubt, not to mention seeing Poseidon, whom he idolised. But I would miss everything about him—his fascination with horses, the way he could fix chariots or crumple metal with his bare hands, or tie our enemies into knots. I'd even miss him snoring like an earthquake in the next bunk all night.

"Hey, Ana."

I turned.

Luke and Grover were standing at the top of the sand dune. I guess maybe I had some sand in my eyes, because I was blinking a lot. Okay, fine, I was crying. But I was losing Tyson, so just fuck off and leave me alone about it, 'kay?

"Tyson …" I told them. "He had to …"

"We know," Luke replied softly, his expression gentle. "Chiron told us."

"Cyclopes forges." Grover shuddered. "I hear the cafeteria food there is terrible! Like, no enchiladas at all."

I let out a watery laugh, and he gained a pleased expression. Luke wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, Ariel. Time for dinner."

We walked back toward the dining pavilion together, just the three of us together, almost like old times.

A storm raged that night, but it parted around Camp Half-Blood as storms usually did. (Thank Olympus for weather wards, that's all I'm saying.)

Lightning flashed against the horizon, waves pounded the shore, but not a drop fell in our valley. We were protected again, thanks to the Fleece, safely sealed inside our magical borders.

Still, my dreams were restless. I heard Kronos taunting me from the depths of Tartarus: _Polyphemus sits blindly in his cave, young heroine, believing he has won a great victory. Are you any less deluded?_ The Titan's cold laughter filled the darkness of the cavern.

Then my dream changed. I was following Tyson to the bottom of the sea, into the court of Poseidon. It was a radiant hall filled with blue light, the floor cobbled with pearls. And there, on a throne of coral, sat my father, dressed like a simple fisherman in khaki shorts and a sun-bleached T-shirt. I looked up into his tan weathered face, his deep green eyes that matched my own, and he spoke two words: _Brace yourself._

I woke with a start.

There was a banging on the door. Grover flew inside without waiting for permission. "Ana!" he stammered. "Luke … on the hill … she …"

The look in his eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Luke had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened—I ripped off the covers, my blood like ice water in my veins. I threw on a hoodie over my mismatched pajamas and shoved on my sneakers, thankful they were Velcro instead of laces, while Grover tried to make a complete sentence, but he was too stunned, too out of breath. He wasn't making any sense.

"She's lying there … just lying there …"

Who was _she_? The only thing I could think was that a new camper must have arrived, deathly injured by the sounds of it.

I ran outside and raced across the central yard, Grover right behind me. Dawn was just breaking, but the whole camp seemed to be stirring. Word was spreading. Something huge had happened. A few campers were already making their way toward the hill as fast as they could, satyrs and nymphs and heroes in a weird mix of armour and pajamas. I spotted Will and his younger sister Kayla Knowles, gripping a box of medical supplies and a quiver of arrows between them as they struggled up the slope.

I heard the clop of horse hooves, and Chiron galloped up behind us, looking grim.

"Is it true?" he asked Grover.

Grover could only nod, his expression dazed.

I tried to ask what was going on, but Chiron grabbed me by the arm and effortlessly lifted me onto his back. Together we thundered up Half-Blood Hill, where a small crowd had started to gather.

I expected to see the Fleece missing from the pine tree, but it was still there, glittering in the first light of dawn. The storm had broken and the sky was bloodred from the rising sun. The colour made me queasy, as I remembered an old phrase one of my foster mothers (who had adored that type of thing to an unhealthy degree) had often spouted. _Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailor's warning._

"Curse the titan lord," Chiron said. "He's tricked us again, given himself another chance to control the prophecy."

"What do you mean?" I asked fearfully.

"The Fleece," he answered me in a grim tone of voice. "The Fleece did its' work too well."

That was, as you may have guessed, completely unhelpful. We galloped forward, everyone moving out of our way. There at the base of the tree, a girl was lying unconscious. Luke was pale faced and dressed in Greek armour as he knelt next to her. He didn't glance back as we cantered up to the group.

"My gods," he was muttering repeatedly. "My gods. My gods."

My instinctual fear caused blood to roar in my ears. I couldn't think straight. What had happened? Was Luke hurt? Was the Fleece still there? Still undamaged?

The tree itself looked perfectly fine, whole and healthy, suffused with the essence of the Golden Fleece.

"It healed the tree," Chiron said, his voice ragged. "And poison was not the only thing it purged."

Luke finally looked away from the girl at the sound of Chiron's voice. When he saw us, he ran to Chiron. "It… she … just suddenly there …"

His eyes were streaming with tears uncharacteristically, but I still didn't understand. I was too freaked out to make sense of it all. I leaped off Chiron's back and ran toward the unconscious girl. Chiron said: "Ana, wait!"

I knelt by her side. She had short black hair and freckles across her nose. She was built like a long-distance runner, lithe and strong, and she wore clothes that were somewhere between punk and Goth—a black T-shirt, black tattered jeans, and a leather jacket with buttons from a bunch of bands I'd never heard of.

She wasn't a camper. I didn't recognize her from any of the cabins. And yet I had the strangest feeling I'd seen her before….

"It's true," Grover said, panting from his run up the hill. "I can't believe …"

Nobody else came close to the girl.

I put my hand on her forehead, trying to use my rudimentary first-aid skills to assess her. Her skin was cold, but my fingertips tingled as if they were burning.

"She needs nectar and ambrosia," I said. She was clearly a half-blood, whether she was a camper or not. I could sense that just from one touch. I didn't understand why everyone was acting so scared. I shot a scathing look at the medics, who were as frozen as everyone else.

Breakdowns are for _later_ people. Not when there's someone in desperate need of medical aid lying unconscious in front of you. Gods! Well, if none of them were going to help, I _would_.

I took her by the shoulders and lifted her into sitting position, resting her head on my shoulder. Then I pulled out a small piece of ambrosia from my pocket. I pinched her nose to make her open her mouth, popped in the ambrosia, and massaged her throat to make her swallow. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the girl took a shaky breath. She coughed and opened her eyes.

Her irises were startlingly blue—electric blue.

The girl stared at me in bewilderment, shivering and wild-eyed. "Who—"

"I'm Ana," I said, keeping my tone soothing like I was talking to a baby foster sibling, or one of the camp's younger kids (usually about five to seven, but there was a four-year-old son of Apollo who had come after his mother's death. I'll give Apollo this, he made certain that none of his children ended up in the foster system). "You're safe now."

"Strangest dream …"

"It's okay."

"Dying."

"No," I assured her. "You're okay. What's your name?"

That's when I knew. Even before she said it. I had seen those eyes before, not just in a picture and I had heard that voice before too.

The girl's blue eyes stared into mine, and I understood what the Golden Fleece quest had been about. The poisoning of the tree. Everything. Kronos had done it to bring another chess piece into play— another chance to control the prophecy.

Even Chiron, Luke, and Grover, who should've been celebrating this moment, were too shocked, thinking about what it might mean for the future, and the war. And I was holding someone who was supposed to have died seven years ago in my arms.

"I am Thalia," she said, unaware of the turmoil she was about to cause the world. "Daughter of Zeus."


	20. Sequel!

Sequel: Anaea Jackson and the Titan's Curse is up!


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